Discoveries
by Hyperminimalism
Summary: After a mission to infiltrate an abandoned Deepground facility goes wrong, Cid is called upon to lend his assistance. Little do they know what they'll find inside or what will come as a result.
1. Chapter 1

Rain showered the land in torrents, soaking it to the core. Overhead, the sound of thunder rattled loudly; its vociferous roar rumbled the very air in the sky. He was expecting the weather to be pretty crumby, but not this bad. Either way, he could do little about it and the mansion was already in sight. For the rest of the way, Cid recited a pep talk in his head as he put one foot in front of another, careful not to press his weight down too hard for they would sink in the mud.

When he reached the front door, the pilot balled his hand into a fist and pounded as hard as he could -- as if anyone could hear him. How the windows had not been shattered from the sheer force thunder was amazing. There was no answer, as expected, so Cid slipped his hand around the knob at that point and hoped for the best.

He wasn't surprised to find the front door locked. Even though the place was supposed to be deserted save for a few monsters, he figured not too many people without the balls would venture inside. It wasn't as thought he wanted to be there. Two days ago, Cid had received a call from Reeve, explaining to him the mission Vincent agreed to do had gone awry, that the gunner was now missing and most likely injured. It didn't take much to convince the pilot to join the search for the missing ex-Turk. Within a few hours of the call, Cid was leaving Rocket Town in the _Shera_ and headed on his way to the first place he thought to check.

While it was not apparent whether anyone was actually home, Cid had to get in some way or another. Leaving the front door, he moved to the Northeast side of the mansion and stopped just outside of a window smacking loudly against its wooden frame. There wasn't anything in plain sight that he could find to help hoist him up, so Cid grabbed onto the sill, reaching well over his head and counted to three.

It would have been much easier had the wall not been completely soaked from the rain, but somehow, miraculously, Cid scrambled up and fell into a heap on the floor.

"Damn," he hissed, rolling onto his back and sitting upright. Cid rubbed the spot on his head where he'd bumped it and glanced about his surroundings. Save for the lightning which struck every few seconds, there was no other illumination. In his coat pocket, he retrieved a small flashlight, knowing he would need it sooner or later. If he could help it, he wasn't going to go trekking through that place in the dark. He'd seen what lurked in the many rooms and didn't exactly want to be caught by surprise.

Cid had either two ways to go from there; the right, which led down a hall with a door; or two the left, which would have been the way he came had he been able to get through the front door. He figured it best to take the left path and rose to his feet; his muddied boots squealed against the tile with every step.

Through the hall, he was led to the front, into a massive vestibule. Somewhere, something shrieked and Cid reacted instinctively, swinging his body towards the way from which the noise came. It was soon replaced by the loud crack of thunder straight above the mansion; the windows rattled and so did the rest of the building.

A heavy sigh escaped the man as he gathered his wits again and shivered at the chill that coursed through his body. He was drenched from head to toe and with no change of clothing or any means of getting dry. He sure as hell didn't want to venture back into the downpour either, not just for the fact that it was cold and wet, but dangerous as well.

"C'mon, Vince, be here," Cid muttered, silently chanting the plea under his breath. He knew the gunner usually slept upstairs and left the rest of the house alone, so that's where he headed first. The old staircase creaked under his weight, but it held well enough. At the top of the stairs, a chilly breeze blew softly across his face. It was colder up there for some reason, though there was obviously no source heat inside that mansion.

He swallowed a thick lump down his throat, tightened his grip on the handle of the flashlight and moved forward. For whatever reason, the light's beam began to flicker off and on. "Damnit," Cid whispered and gave it a shake. It held its power for a moment, but the beam flickered off completely, leaving him in total darkness.

"Great…"

It was just a well.

What else could he expect in an isolated, uninhabited old mansion?

Cid slipped the flashlight back into his pocket exhaled angrily through his nose. He could only see the faint silhouette of the rug that lined the wooden floor; a good enough means of keeping track of where he was, accompanied with one hand out in front of him and one hand touching the wall to his right. The tips of his fingers grazed over the indent of a doorway, too close to the top of the stairs to be the one that Vincent slept in. Just a few feet ahead was a second door and most definitely not the room he was looking for.

Each step was more hesitant than the last and for good reason. For all he knew, he could've been walking straight into a fight – or worse. And, the worse part was, he didn't have anything to fight with. His spear was too damn big to be carrying around like a gun or some other weapon he could conceal, but by that point, Cid was kicking himself for not coming in armed with an extra set of batteries instead.

_Whatever_, he thought and moved forward. He would just have to be more careful about where he stepped.

After what seemed like an eternity, his fingers brushed over another door frame and this time it felt right. He dragged his hand across the wood until he found the knob, taking a firm grip. Before he opened the door, he wanted to be ready to bolt out of there just in case he'd picked the wrong one. It had been a while since he'd been to the mansion and it wasn't as though he knew the layout like the back of his hand. The chances of running into a monster instead of Vincent were much higher than he was comfortable with. Feet planted in a ready stance, Cid turned the knob slowly, pushing the door into the room as he listened with sharp ears for anything out of the usual.

"…Vince?" Cid whispered, not wanting to alert any near by monsters of his presence. Even as he flinched, nothing charged him; a huge relief, but still, no answer.

Almost instinctively, Cid reached to the wall beside him and searched for a light switch. There was one, but it didn't do anything when he flipped it up and down. Obviously, it wouldn't given the fact that if the power hadn't been cut off a long time ago, the storm would have knocked it out.

Cid closed the door behind him once he was inside and stood there, patting himself down as he searched for his lighter. He had to flick the flint wheel a couple of times to get it to ignite, but the light was a welcome substitute for the darkness. With the lighter, he could practically see the entire room along with the candles that sat on top of a waist-high bureau on the adjacent wall. They were lit and flickering in no time, giving Cid enough light to be able to move about the room freely.

_Guess he's not here_.

With no sign of a threat, Cid finally shrugged out of his coat which hadn't done much to shield the rain. He tossed it over the back of a chair in the corner of the room and grabbed one of the candles, bringing it along so he could inspect what was behind the other door in the room; nothing but linen and more linen – no monsters, thankfully. On the other hand, why Vincent would be in a closet was beyond him.

Before shutting the door, Cid grabbed a few sheets and set them on the end of the bed. He figured having come all this way that he could wait a little while longer to see if Vincent would show up. If he kept moving around, the chances of them running in to one another would decrease, so staying in one spot was his plan for the moment.

The blond sat at the edge of the mattress and bent down to work at the laces of his muddy boots. They were thoroughly saturated and still dripping all over the wooden floor. No matter, the mud at the water could be easily cleaned. Had it been carpet, on the other hand…

Down to his boxers and undershirt, which were only slightly damp, Cid took one of the pillowcases he'd pulled from the closet and ran it over his hair. He wasn't exactly up to go snooping through the mansion for a clean towel; the linen would have to do.

_Jeeze, what the hell does Vince do here anyway?_ the blond wondered as he grabbed his clothing to hang over the foot of the bed frame. Aside from the thunderous racket outside, the mansion was quiet. It was a sight straight out of one of those teen slasher flicks that Cid hated so much; not because of how gruesome they tended to be, but because of how bored he got watching them. Needless to say, he didn't watch many, but when he had caught one recently on television, it reminded him of Vincent…in an odd way.

Standing in the middle of the room, Cid realized he had pretty much willingly walked into this situation without a real plan, going with his instincts, which had been wrong. Now that he was half-naked, his clothes practically ruined and the storm getting worse by the minute, he had little other choice.

Cid's gaze drifted from the closet door and over his shoulder to the door leading to the hall. When the thunder wasn't blaring, it was rather quiet. He let out a soft sigh, grabbed one of the bigger sheets and threw it into the air away from the candle. He took the two corners and wrapped it around him, pulling it into a toga-like wrap. For now, it would do, but once his clothes were dry enough, he'd have to change.

On the other side of the room against the wall closest to the door was an old desk. It had thin legs and was top-heavy, looking as though it would fall at any second, but Cid pulled the top drawer open anyway. There wasn't anything of interest in there, so he shut it and moved on. The next drawer had a few pieces of paper, worn from aging and lined with a thin film of dust. Cid ignore them knowing he wouldn't even be able to read anything since the ink was almost completely faded and shut that drawer, too.

With his palms, he ran them over the top of the dresser, getting a feel for the ripened wood finish. It must have been at least a hundred years old. Upon closer look, something caught his attention. The knitted runner draped across its width was as spotless as if it had just been made, not a spec of dust lay upon the thread. Yet, nearly any personal decoration had either been removed or would have had some kind of grime over it; and the thought of Vincent being so concerned as to keep that kind of ornament free from age was curious.

There had to be something more to that desk, whatever it was. Cid found himself running his hands over every flat surface he could find, looking for a trick to the thing. When he had covered nearly everywhere and turned up empty handed, a frown pulled at his brow. That couldn't be right. No, there was something, he just hadn't figured it out yet.

Another thorough inspection proved to be just as fruitless as the first, until Cid let out an exasperated sigh and his hand clipped the protruded edge of the desk. It pulled up with a bit of force and slammed back down, startling him at first, but revealing its secret.

He wasted no time in pulling the top of the desk up; however, it was too dark to make out anything and Cid certainly wasn't going to put his hand inside without looking first. He set the desk top down, tied off his toga, grabbed the candle from across the room and returned, lifting the desktop again. The only contents were a small box, small enough to fit inside but deep enough to hold something interesting.

Cid grabbed the box out of the desk and moved to the bed where he settled down. He sat the box on his lap, opening the lid and was surprised to find some actual content inside. On top of the small pile sat a small booklet, something he'd seen before but couldn't put his finger on and the text was too small to read without light.

Cid held it next to the candle. _Passport,_ it said in gold letters. Inside the front cover was Vincent's name scrawled in cursive. That was right. Back when he was younger, he'd seen his father's passport, but that kind of identification hadn't been used for some time.

Much of the content in the box were shredder letters about his mother from, supposedly, his father. It didn't seem proper to go and read through them, even after snooping through the box already, but Cid continued. He finally reached the bottom and came upon two pictures: one of Vincent dated before he'd joined the Turks and another after, sporting his suit.

He'd never actually seen a picture of Vincent any older than he was now and it intrigued him to no end. It was as though Cid had found the Holy Grail, there, in that very box. Albeit worn and faded, the pictures spoke a thousand words. He could've sworn he spotted a bit of a smirk tugging at the corner of the gunner's lips in the candid photo that had been snapped of him before he was a Turk.

For a long while, Cid sat on the bed scrutinizing every aspect of the photo; the way that Vincent's short hair fell across his forehead down to the furniture in the room. Part of him wished he could have seen the gunner back then. If he thought Vincent was interesting now, the younger version was even more captivating.

It came from out of nowhere, but a yawn suddenly forced Cid to reel back and ride out the powerful wave of exhaustion. He hadn't felt as tired as he did before, though it didn't surprise him. After hiking a few miles from the _Shera_ which had been left just outside of town, he had to go through the town of Nibelheim and to the location of the mansion. In the mud and pouring rain, coupled with the fear that he might get struck by lightning, the journey had taken a lot out of him and now he was finally feeling the effects.

Cid stifled another yawn, this time dropping the picture back into the box. He didn't bother to put it back where it came from, too overcome with fatigue to think straight. His mind was focused on one thing only: rest, and there was a perfectly good bed right under him.


	2. Chapter 2

Something loud, something _other_ than the thunder woke Cid from a light sleep. Although he couldn't be certain it wasn't just the rumble overhead, he knew he hadn't awakened during the night because of it as he'd been sleeping just fine until then. Whatever it was came from inside the house and it was close enough that he could hear it well.

Sitting up in bed, the pilot frowned, still half asleep from having been awakened so suddenly. At first, he wasn't sure where he was and then he quickly remembered he had come to the mansion. When the noise sounded again, he threw his legs over the side of the bed and rushed to snatch his pants off of the foot of the frame. They were still damp, but drying. He nearly fell face first struggling to pull them over his legs.

Once they were on snuggly, Cid paused for a moment to listen again; the sound made a thump again, but this time it was accompanied by a muffled, half-hearted, almost pained groan.

"What the…?"

Whether it was a monster or human being, Cid couldn't be sure. The thought of leaving the room to investigate, however, without a means of protecting himself didn't do much to calm his nerves. Then again, he had no other choice. It was either that or let the thing come to him.

Cid swallowed a thick lump down his throat, moving quietly to the door and wrapped his hand around the knob. There were no sounds other than the pounding of thunder, but once it passed, the air fell silent again. He took things slow, opening the door, stepping out into the hall. The floor creaked under his weight, but Cid ignored it and focused on the noise.

Sometime during the night, the candle had burned out. He hadn't even thought to relight it, but the idea seemed to work in his favor anyway. Now, he could see a bit better in the darkness as his eyes had adjusted some. One foot in front of the other, Cid crept down the hallway, moving towards the stairwell with his hand out in front of him. It was difficult to see well enough more than five or ten feet ahead; his first instinct was to stop at a safe distance even if he wasn't sure he was all that safe in the first place. Amidst the silence, another thunk echoed and groaned again. It was like someone had flipped a switch in his mind. All of a sudden, he knew exactly what he was hearing.

"Vince!"

Devoid of any apprehension, Cid darted to the top of the stairs and rushed down them about halfway. He crouched to his knees beside the figure slumped over and struggling to even stay upright. Cid reached out to help Vincent carry his weight, but the gunner cried out softly and pulled away.

"Jesus," the pilot said under his breath. Quite obviously, Vincent had been injured, badly, but he couldn't see the extent of those injuries in the dark. Carefully this time, Cid reached out again and allowed Vincent to grab onto him. Once he had a firm grasp on the gunner, they made their way upstairs and into the room he'd just come from.

They headed straight to the bed where Cid gently placed Vincent down. The dark-haired man struggled not to cry out, but he couldn't hold back his voice at the pain that coursed through his body. Firstly, in order to get a better look at what he was dealing with, Cid grabbed his lighter and relit the candle beside the bed. What he saw nearly made his heart nearly jump out of his throat; one large gash across the gunner's torso and several smaller tears in his shirt in the same direction, all covered in a crimson mess of blood.

"Oh, man," Cid whispered, coming to his knees, "what th'hell happened?"

The question went unanswered. He received no reply and understandably so. How Vincent had even kept on his feet after sustaining such an injury was beyond him. The only concern he had now was getting those wounds covered to help control the persistent bleeding.

Normally, Cid carried a pocketknife with him, but he forgot to bring it this time, for some stupid reason. He could have kicked himself for being so absentminded, even if it wouldn't have done him any good. He needed to make due with what he had and that was that. When he pulled at the sheets, with enough force, it ripped easily enough; the fabric ripped to the other end. It was a little too long to work with, so he ripped it down the middle again and moved back to the bedside.

"Vince? Can ya hear me? Hey…" A hand gently wiped the sweat away from the gunner's brow. "Don't pass out on me just yet. Need t'get you patched up." _Jesus_, he thought. He had a better look at the wound now that he was up close and with a source of light. It was rather deep, fresh enough to have been attained within the last few hours.

He swallowed a thick lump down his throat, wrapped the end of the sheet around his fist and continued to talk to the gunner.

"I need ya to sit up for me. Can ya do that?" Of course he couldn't. Vincent was in enough pain as it was. Struggling to keep conscious took nearly all of his remaining strength. "Here," Cid said and placed his hand just above the wound. With every last bit of his strength, the pilot pulled Vincent up so he could slip his hand under his back. A tortured cry emitted from the injured man, but all Cid could do was try his best not to put him in any more pain. He managed to slip the sheet under and tied it off tight enough, putting some pressure on the wound in hopes it would at least help with the bleeding.

By the time he finished, Vincent had stopped squirming and lay calmly on the bed as his breath steadied; his chest still heaved up and down. With the other ripped half of the sheet, Cid wiped the sweat from his forehead and brushed Vincent's hair from his face.

_What happened to you?_ he wondered as the dark-haired man frowned in his sleep.

For the second time that day, Cid was rudely awakened but this time by the ringing of his phone. He nearly jumped out of the chair he had fallen asleep in the night before and grabbed the PHS out of his pocket before it could disturb the gunner's sleep. He took the call out in the hallway, thankful for the fact that it was morning as he could actually see now with natural sunlight spilling in through the windows.

"I've been trying to reach you all night," Reeve said and let a sigh out over the line. "I suppose the storm knocked out reception. Did you find him?"

"Yeah. He showed up a few hours ago."

"How is he?"

"M'not sure... He's alive, if that's what yer askin'."

"Well, that's good," the director said with a sigh and continued. "It seems, considering everything, that the whole reason for this was mainly due to the damages they sustained after the explosion. They were so far away and we had already lost contact…"

"Yeah, I figured," Cid interrupted. He knew the jist of what had happened, but the reason didn't matter to him. What mattered was that Vincent had survived. "Now that the storms settled, it'd prolly be best to get out here ASAP. I thought he'd die on me last night and I donno how much better he's doin' today. You kinda caught me in the middle of a nap."

"Understood. I'm on my way with a medic crew as we speak. Just do whatever you need to." Reeve paused, but spoke up again. "Oh, and Cid? Thank you."

There was no need for thanks, though the pilot accepted it anyway. He would do just about anything he could to help the gunner. He was his best friend after all.

Cid sucked in a deep breath of air through his nose and let it out, shutting the PHS and slipping it in his back pocket. It wasn't that he wanted to leave Vincent. If he had it his way, he would've accompanied them back to Edge, but he still had his own ship to worry about. A soft creaking sound coming from behind the door alerted him and Cid hurried back inside to find Vincent shifting on the bed.

Cid lingered over the gunner. Vincent slowly peeled his eyes open, frowning as the task seemed to be painful. A wince, and suddenly those red eyes were looking up at him. "Hey," the pilot spoke softly.

Vincent swallowed a thick lump down his throat before answering. "…Hey."

"Welcome back."

He received a curious blink in reply, but no answer. Looking down, Cid motioned to the ripped sheet still tied around his torso. There was no fresh blood, much to his relief, though he would have to untie it to see for sure.

"You don't remember what happened?" Cid asked, taking to the task of loosening the knot. Vincent gave him a vacant stare, flinched when the pilot's hand brushed over his stomach and tried to sit up, but a wave of pain stopped him from doing so. Cid gave him a reassuring glance before doing anything and the sheet came undone. Surprisingly enough, the wound was healing itself. "It didn't look like this a few hours ago."

"Is that a good thing?"

"I guess," Cid nodded and chuckled under his breath. Now that the wound was healing, the next step would be to clean off the mess from the dried blood and debris, but the pilot had no idea whether this place provided a source of water. "So does this place have plumbing?"

"It should," the gunman replied, shifting into a sitting position. "I'd suggest letting the water run for a minute, though…"

For a moment, Cid excused himself after being told where he could find a basin and found the bathroom two doors down. He was greeted by a cold draft and the smell of dust and rainwater invaded his nose. There must have been a leak somewhere, but that was the least of his worries.

The moment he turned the knob in the sink, a gush of brownish, rusted water spilled out. He wasn't even sure if it _was_ water, though Vincent didn't seem to have any objection to it. Surely, he would've said something had it been a risk to his health. It took quite a while for the dirty water to turn an agreeable color and Cid returned to the room to find Vincent standing in front of the mirror.

He'd wiped the dirt from the glass and was peering at the wound on his stomach, but Cid quickly put an end to that. "Th'hell are you doin' up outta bed, huh?" the pilot griped, setting the basin down on the floor beside the nightstand. "C'mon," he said, guiding the dark-haired man back to bed. "You really scared th'shit outta me last night…"

Cid's confession took the gunman by surprise. He didn't know what to say at first, or what to do for that matter. Considering he could hardly remember what happened the night before, it was difficult to know exactly what Cid was talking about, but the condition he was in now was gruesome enough for anyone to have to deal with. Quite obviously, things had been even worse just a few hours ago.

"Reeve's on his way," the pilot explained. He balled the end of the unused half sheet as a rag, dipped it in the water and mindlessly worked away and cleaning the blood from Vincent's stomach. "He sounded pretty worried, yanno." Cid paused shortly to find a clean section of sheet. "Man, whatever happened really tore through you."

"I don't remember much," Vincent answered, holding back the urge to cry out when Cid touched a sensitive spot that hadn't healed completely. "There was an explosion; the truck lifted from the back and we were in the air for a few seconds. Before that, we had lost contact with base. When I woke up, I wasn't with the troop anymore."

Whatever the case may've been, Cid was baffled by something more intriguing. "It's weird knowin' what your body is capable of, but Jesus, Vince, it's another thing actually seein' it heal on its own…"

He felt exposed with the way Cid was staring at his body, although he could understand the pilot's fascination. For him, it had been a difficult matter to get used to at first, but now it was as normal as breathing. A simple paper cut would have repaired itself in a matter of minutes. As serious as the injury as this was, it would heal on its own with time; much faster than any normal human being.

The room fell silent again as Cid kept wiping with a gentle stroke. It was somewhat soothing in accompaniment to the almost numbing pain.

"…ince."

Something akin to his name sounded in the back of his mind. Someone was calling out to him, but how could that be?

"_Vince!_"

The gunner's eyes snapped open and refocused to find Cid standing over him.

"You okay?"

Vincent blinked a few times before answering. He must've passed out for a few seconds.

"Yeah…"

"Jus' hope Reeve gets here fast," the pilot muttered to himself and paused, speaking his name again but this time, louder. "Hey, come on, stay with me."

As hard as he tried to do that, Vincent couldn't fight the reaction his body was having no matter how much or how loud Cid called out to him. It happened fast; coming on at a frightening speed, surely scary for the pilot to watch him dip in and out of consciousness. All Cid could do was sit and wait for help at that point, hoping Vincent's condition wouldn't deteriorate any further.


	3. Chapter 3

"…Be careful with him. Watch his side…"

The men carting Vincent off into the helicopter were cautious of his injuries, but Cid couldn't help voicing his concerns. From inside the cabin, Reeve jumped out and quickly jogged over to the pilot, taking him aside where the wind wasn't so strong from the blades.

"Are you sure you don't want to come with us?"

"I gotta get my ship back," Cid explained, though it wasn't all that convincing. He wanted to, but he knew he had prior obligations. "I would, but…"

"It's all right; I understand," Reeve replied and couldn't help but speak up about the apprehensive expression Cid wore as he glanced over his shoulder. "You know we'll take good care of him."

Of course Cid knew that. He just couldn't help worrying. Not that he would have expressed it in such a similar matter for anyone else – Vincent was a different story. Cid nodded and sighed and they were interrupted by a voice calling out from the chopper.

The chopper pilot waved his arm in front of him and flashed the thumbs up. Reeve returned the gesture, knowing it was time to leave but turned to face Cid again.

"I'll keep you updated," he said, giving the blond a reassuring pat on the shoulder before jogging back to the helicopter. Reeve hunkered down to brace the force of the wind and hopped inside; the door closed behind him. Soon enough, they were in the air and disappearing from sight. They could no longer be seen over the trees after a few moments. The only remnants were the distant echo of the blade whooshing in the wind.

* * *

A faint shuffled in the background sounded somewhere close by. Vincent shifted slightly, unfamiliar with the feel of the bed he was lying in. His nose was invaded by the smell of antiseptic and cleanliness; not the musty scent of the mansion he'd become so accustomed to.

The sudden noise of the gunner moving under the sheet alerted the other two people in the room – Reeve and a woman clad in scrubs.

"Vincent." The director moved to the side of his bed, staring down at him with a worried expression on his face. "Thank goodness, you're all right. How are you feeling?"

No response. "He's still a little disoriented from the medication," the nurse answered for him and focused her gaze back on Vincent. "Look at me?" As best he could, Vincent squinted and turned his glance to the light shining in his eyes. His vision was still slightly blurred, but it was getting better. Vincent pulled away and squeezed his eyes shut when the nurse put the tiny light in her pocket.

"Guess not too bad," Reeve chimed in with a smile and a genuine chuckle.

On the other side of the bed, the nurse spoke up again. "I'll let the doctor know that he's awake," she told them before slipping out of the room to let them have a moment of privacy.

"You gave us all quite a scare, you know," Reeve continued once they were alone. He folded his arms over his chest and watched as the gunner sat up a bit. Apparently, Vincent wasn't in much pain as he didn't seem to favor the wound on his torso. It was healing quickly, however; much to their relief.

As Vincent settled into a more comfortable position, he suddenly noticed something, someone that was missing from the picture but had been there before the last thing moment he could recall.

"Where is Cid?"

The question earned him an odd look from Reeve, but only for a split second.

"He needed to return to Rocket Town," Reeve explained. Fortunately, Vincent had a knack for hiding his emotions. It was easy to veil the sinking feeling in his chest, despite knowing why he felt that way in the first place. He was finally beginning to feel the tender spots as his hand grazed over his abdomen which had been wrapped in gauze.

His question had been answered. It seemed like a dead-end route to take the conversation no matter how he looked at it. Vincent, instead, decided the best course of action would be to change the subject. "The troop…"

The expression on Reeve's face told him what he wanted to know. It wasn't good. "They've been recovered, as has the truck," the director answered.

Recovered? Vincent frowned slightly and shook his head. His brain wasn't functioning properly. "And?"

"There were no survivors - aside from you, of course." As obvious as it should have been, it still came as somewhat of a surprised to hear. Reeve continued. "You were lucky, Vincent. After we lost contact, I thought perhaps we were facing the worst case scenario."

"I need to go back there."

"No one's going back; not until some things can be worked out. We've got a lot on our plate with the loss of those troops and it's going to take a bit longer than expected to deal with than expected."

"Then I'll go in alone."

"You're injured," Reeve replied with a snort, laughing off the idea. "You are the _last_ person who should be up an on his feet right now."

"The wound will heal in a few days at most. You know that."

"It still isn't enough to convince me to risk your safety again."

The gunner let out a heavy sigh through his nose and dropped his head back into the pillows. He knew he wouldn't get anywhere trying to convince the director otherwise, yet he still tested his luck. Then again, Reeve's answer hadn't been as grim as he thought it might be. Without a doubt in his mind, in those next few days, he would be back where he was – _alone_ – and continuing the investigation. It was just a matter of patience; a test of will. Surely, he could withstand another few days.

Just then, the sound of someone rapping against the door interrupted his thoughts and both Vincent and Reeve glanced up to find the nurse returning, though not alone.

"Knock, knock," she said, opening the door. "I'm back. And I found this guy wandering the halls." From behind her, a familiar and unexpected face appeared – Cid. "He says he's been looking for you."

Immediately, Reeve stood from his chair to approach the pilot. "Cid. But I thought…"

"Yeah, I know. Sorry I didn't call. I just…dropped the ship off an' turned right back around."

"How did you get here?"

"The Bronco," Cid answered and then turned his gaze to Vincent. The gunner was sitting quietly, staring at the two men when their eyes met across the room. Reeve seemed to notice this and spoke up again, but this time, directing his attention to the nurse. He went off about some medical jargon and led them out into the hall, though not before whispering something to the pilot as they left.

When the door shut, Cid stood stiffly in the middle of the room, unsure of what to say or do at first. He cleared the gunk out of his throat and approached Vincent's bedside, giving the man a once over.

"You look better," he noted.

Vincent only glanced at him and began to fiddle with the bed railing. Cid watched curiously, but he didn't realize what was happening until Vincent pulled the sheet off of his legs and swung them off the side.

"What're ya doin'?!" the pilot hissed through clenched teeth. Without hesitation, he lunged forward, attempting to help Vincent down, but the gunner simply ignored the gesture and stood easily enough on his own.

"I didn't think you'd be interested to know I need to use the restroom," Vincent explained as he padded across the room with his feet clad in socks against the tile floor. He disappeared behind the only other door in the room. Cid, on the other hand, leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Y'know, after seein' ya the way you looked, it's kinda hard to believe things've changed so quickly."

There was no reply at first, only the faint hospital sounds around them until Vincent finally answered. "I thought you had business to take care of."

"I did. Before Reeve asked me t'help come find you, the ship had a scheduled routine maintenance inspection. I pushed it back a few days, but if'n I'd pushed it back even more, it coulda jeopardized the ship's repairs _and_ mine and the crew's safety. Didn't think I'd come right back either, but…I didn't wanna leave in the first place."

Again, the room fell silent

"So Shera offered to handle it for me an' sent me off." Cid let out a hearty laugh as he thought about it and glanced somewhere in the room. "I don't even have a place to stay."

From behind the door, the toilet flushed and then the sink turned on. After a few moments, the door finally opened and Vincent appeared again, heading back to the bed. "You should speak to Reeve," he suggested as he settled under the sheet.

"Yeah…"

The door opening caught both their attention and Reeve and the nurse stepped in.

"Good news," she said. "Considering the progression you've made, the doctor is considering releasing you by evening."

"We just spoke with the doctor and he's pleased with the way you've been healing," Reeve added. "But I'm afraid I won't be able to stick around. I've been summoned back to the office."

Reeve said his goodbyes, but not before asking the pilot to join him outside in the hall for a brief moment. Whatever it was they needed to talk about, Vincent wasn't going to be a part of it. He couldn't really focus on the fact much as the nurse kept him occupied in conversation about his eventual release. Just a few questions, last minute examination and she'd get right back to finishing the paperwork.

* * *

Despite how quickly he had healed in the passed 24 hours, Vincent was still ordered to return to his room and refrain from moving about too much. The doctor had no doubt he would be capable of tackling his normal routine by morning, but in order to ensure that the process went as smoothly as possible, that required rest and relaxation. Vincent had no objections to this given the fact that there was little he could do either way. From the hospital, he went straight back to the Inn and crawled into bed, feeling a little tired from the strain that had been put on his body.

He hadn't intended to drift off as quickly as he did, but Vincent was only in a light sleep when someone knocked on the door. He shot up, wincing at the tender spot on his torso and frowned, wondering who it could be. There was no one he was expecting, but he got up and walked to the door anyway. When he opened it, he was surprised to find Cid standing there holding a plastic bag full of food.

"Care for some company?" the pilot wondered and waited to be shown in. Although he hadn't been expecting anyone, the thought didn't sound terrible. Perhaps the reason for his decision had something to do with the aromatic cuisine wafting in the air. Vincent stepped aside to let him in and closed the door.

"I got too much," Cid said as he held up the bag. "Help yourself."

The hospital food hadn't been much to write home about, and Vincent never considered himself a picky eater. As long as it wouldn't poison him, he'd eat it. After rummaging through the bag, the gunner took what was left of the rice to start on that. He was hungry, but he had to be careful about what he ate so as not to overdo it.

In the corner of the room was a chair which Cid dragged up to the bed. There was just enough room to prop his feet up with Vincent sitting there, and he made himself comfortable.

"So I talked t'Reeve before he left. He couldn't stay too long, but he offered me a room somewhere for a few days."

"How long are you staying?"

"Dunno yet, but I told 'im I'd feel bad fer leachin' offa his money without doin' something in return. He said it was thanks enough fer lendin' a hand, yanno. I wasn't gonna accept a free room fer doin' somethin' ya don't even hafta ask. Said you wanted to get you back on the field, but he wasn't sure that was all that good uv'n idea, which we still gotta talk about," Cid emphasized by pointing his fork in Vincent's direction.

He swallowed what mouthful of food he'd been chewing on before continuing and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Anyway, seein' as how the whole ground troop thing didn't work the first time, I said I'd offer my ship to act as a sorta makeshift headquarters so we could get ya inside that Deep Ground base. Wouldn't hafta set down if we didn't wanna an' it'll be a helluva lot easier to get outta there if somethin' goes wrong."

It made sense enough that even Vincent couldn't find a reason to argue the suggestion. In fact, he found himself wondering why Reeve hadn't come to Cid in the first place, but quickly dismissed the concern as it really didn't matter now at this point. His thoughts were interrupted by the sudden urge to yawn, but Vincent stifled it and let out a heavy sigh instead; the exhaustion he felt before Cid showed up was setting in again.

"It ain't such a bad idea, but we do gotta wait until they're done inspecting the ship."

"How are you going to get it out here?"

"Ah, well Shera knows how to work it and she'll have the crew with her."

"You trust them that much?"

Cid answered with a raucous laugh and set his fork down in the box. "I ain't got no other choice, do I?" he said. "Nah, I know they'll be careful with 'er. If that ain't enough, whoever lays so much as a scratch on that ship's got me to deal with."

Vincent, having finished his rice, placed the empty carton on the nightstand next to the bed and watched as Cid stood from the chair. The pilot announced that he was going to 'take a piss' and disappeared into the bathroom for a minute or two. Within that short span of time, much to Cid's surprise, Vincent had fallen asleep in the position he was in; sitting up against the headboard of the bed.

Cid clucked his tongue and snickered softly, moving the chair out of the way so that he could easily lean in and help the gunner into a better position. Vincent shifted and began to wake up, but the pilot hushed him before he could.

"I'm gonna take off," Cid told him in a quiet voice, pulling the blanket over Vincent as he settled again. By the time he slipped out of the door, Vincent had fallen right to sleep and understandably so. After everything he'd been through in the passed 48 hours, it was hard to believe he hadn't clonked out earlier. For now, he'd let the gunner get his rest. He would need as much as he could get to prepare for the coming days.


	4. Chapter 4

Three days had passed when Cid finally received that phone call. The inspection had been completed and Shera and the crew were on their way to the city. He met them at the airfield while Vincent and Reeve were busy discussing the situation and coming up with a plan of action, but Cid planned on swinging by the WRO headquarters to let Reeve know that their transportation had arrived.

After a thorough run down of how the inspection went, what had been fixed and what needed some attention later on, Shera and Cid went their separate ways, exchanging aircrafts. She and a crewman would take care of the Tiny Bronco while the rest of the ships crew stuck around for their new task. When Cid finally got through every bit of information they had for him, he grabbed a taxi headed back into town.

It took 15 minutes to get to the WRO from the airfield, with traffic. Another few short moments and Cid was on his way to the top floor having been granted access to Reeve's office. The elevator ride was quick, the walk down the hall even quicker. Cid knocked a few times before a familiar voice answered, calling him in and Cid stepped inside to find Reeve and Vincent sitting on the couch.

"How did it go?" the director asked as he stood upright and approached Cid.

"Ship's runnin' fine. Shera took off after we went through a few things with the Bronco and everything's ready t'go."

"Good. Well, Vincent and I were just finishing up. It seems as though things are running much more smoothly than I had hoped. If everything is good on your end, you could leave as early as tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow?"

"Is that a problem?"

"No, not at all," Cid replied and glanced at Vincent. "If it's fine with you."

"I'm ready," he said, standing up to join the other two.

Clapping his hands together, Cid said, "Then I guess it's settled. We leave tomorrow if everything permits."

Reeve had moved back to the table to pick up a few files which he handed to the pilot. "This is just a compilation of information you might find useful: maps, coordinates, a little background history and whatnot. Vincent can tell you pretty much anything you need to know should it not be in the files."

Everything seemed to be in order. There wasn't much else he could think of that hadn't already been covered.

"Unfortunately, I've got a meeting in 30 minutes, so I have to be on my way," Reeve continued as he began to jump from one place to another; the coffee table near the couch, his desk. "But I'll be able to see you two off tomorrow morning."

A few last words before Reeve really had to get going and everyone was shooed out of his office. They parted ways at the 3rd floor and Vincent and Cid continued on their way out of the building. It wasn't until they made it through the front exit when Cid spoke up. He stopped in his tracks on the street and turned to face Vincent.

"You know, I don't really feel like goin' back to my room just yet. You wanna grab a bite to eat?"

Now that he thought about it, some food sounded like a good idea. Vincent hadn't eaten anything since morning and his stomach was beginning to growl at the prospect of sustenance.

* * *

The place that Cid picked out was a local joint, not too far from headquarters and closer to the Inn where Vincent was staying. Cid ordered a monstrous burger, fries and a soda while the gunner chose something a little less messy; a deli sandwich. Their conversation briefly died while they finished their meal, but when Cid finished and cleaned off the mess he'd made, he spoke up again.

"I haven't had a burger like that in _ages_. I mean, don't get me wrong, Shera's a good cook n' all, but not like this."

Vincent swallowed the bite he'd taken and wiped his mouth off with a napkin. "It's been a while since I've seen her. How is she?"

"Busy. Poor thing was in over her head with the inspection and a boatload of other projects. I keep tellin' her she should take it easy, but she insists on fillin' up her plate. In fact, she's been so busy that I hadn't even seen her for a few weeks before this morning."

"Why did you agree to stay out here? You didn't have to—"

"Yeah, I know," Cid said, waving him off. "It's…ah, it's complicated. Things've changed for her; in a good way."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, what happened between us…didn't really work out. I don't know if I told you"— Vincent remained silent, encouraging the pilot to continue—"She had a thing for me."

"I assumed as much."

"Okay, so she finally finds the guts to drop the bomb and things didn't exactly work out the way she'd planned. I mean, she's been with me for all these years and then finally decides to tell me she wants to have a relationship. I don't exactly feel that way for her."

"…You don't?"

"No. Sure, it mighta looked like it, but I ain't in love with her. She's a good friend; kinda like...a big sister, you know? She's loyal, hardworking, takes care of me out of her own will. I love her, too, but not the way she wanted. Anyway, there was a kinda falling out between us. She stopped comin' around for a while, didn't hear from her until almost a month later. Turns out she was doin' some thinkin' and told me she was sorry, that it was fine and she wanted to stay friends. 'Course I wasn't gonna let her go so easily. Things've cooled down a bit since then. Now that she's got it off her chest, Shera's startin' to move on. She's been occupying herself with other jobs, really overloadin' things. There ain't much I can do about it since she'd just tell me not to worry."

"I see."

"Yeah, I coulda stayed behind, but, as it stands, I ain't got much back home. That's why I decided to come here; give myself somethin' to do in the meantime."

Wiping his hands off one last time, Cid crumpled the napkin and tossed it in between their plates. The waitress stopped by one more time to grab their payment and returned quickly with a receipt. She wished them a goodnight and scurried off to assist another patron. Meanwhile, Cid and Vincent, stuffed from the meal, made their way out of the restaurant.

"Better get some sleep. Gotta get up bright 'n early tomorrow."

He gave the gunner a few pats on the back before shoving his hands in his pockets and waltzed the other way.

* * *

Getting into the air went off without a hitch. As promised, Reeve was at the airfield bright and early, along with Vincent. They arrived together to find Cid deeply focused on checking nearly every system, ordering the crew around and generally running about the ship. He wasn't stressed about it, though. It seemed to come as a second nature to him. Cid was very composed while he did what he needed to do before take off. Other than a bit of a scare with the weather, within about an hour upon arrival, they were up and on their way.

"Sir? I've got those weather reports you requested," a crewman said as he ran up the few steps to the wheel. Cid accepted them, thanked the guy and laid them out across a small tabletop to his side. For a few hours now, they'd been hearing word that a storm was forming over their destination.

After a few moments, the pilot finally spoke up. "There's no way we'll be able to pass through it; not with how it's developing."

"According to the latest update, the storm has been gaining strength over the last hour and is moving east at a lot quicker rate than expected. Depending on how fast it gets there, it's supposed to pass right over the coordinates we're headed for."

"How big is it?"

"About 52 miles across."

Sighing, Cid glanced down at the map Reeve had provided for him and then back to the weather reports. They didn't have a lot of choices and seeing as how they would reach the tip of the middle continent within the next half hour, he needed to make a decision.

Cid paused for a long moment, turning over the choices in his mind before settling on something resolute. "All right," he began, "go ahead and announce that we'll be settin' down in Costa. It's already gettin' late enough as it is. 'Nother two hours to Corel and we'll get to the tip of the storm when it hits. I don't wanna be flying in the dark through this thing."

"Yes, sir." The young man nodded and excused himself, rushing back down the steps to carry out his orders. For the next 20 minutes, the crew scattered about the ship taking care of their individual jobs. Cid, on the other hand, remained at the wheel, making sure that they had permission to land and finding a good spot to set them down.

It was a sunny day in Costa with not a cloud in the sky. Fortunately, the storm hadn't made it to that part of the continent and most likely wouldn't until well after sunset. The ship touched down at five after the hour on the outskirts of town which wasn't very far away; a five-minute walk, if that.

Even though the ship had landed safely, Cid's job wasn't over. Most of the crew had finished powering down the engines and a few other systems, but they would need to await further instruction from the captain. Cid took one last look at the weather report only to find that the storm had increased in both size and speed. He didn't need to be told twice that they weren't able to get to their destination anytime soon, so Cid dismissed everyone for the night. They were free to go as they pleased as long as they were on that ship the next morning.

When there was nothing more that Cid could do, he turned from the wheel and stretched his arms high over his head. It felt good to be able to relax, but as tired as he was, the sound of his stomach growling took priority over sleep. Save for a few crewmen who'd decided to stick around, nearly everyone else had ventured into town.

Now that he had a chance to clear his mind, Cid began to wonder where Vincent was hiding. He asked a few of the lingering crewmen if they'd seen the gunner, but no one could give Cid a definite answer. It was no matter. Although the ship was big, he couldn't have gotten very far. Cid checked the only places he figured Vincent might be and came up empty handed. It wasn't until he returned to the bridge when he spotted that familiar dark head of hair and long, flowing cloak standing, staring out of the window.

"There ya are," Cid said, approaching Vincent from behind. The gunner glanced over his shoulder and returned his gaze back outside. "Been lookin' for you."

"I figured you were busy," Vincent replied.

"Yeah, I was." Cid scratched an itch at the back of his neck and dropped his hand to his side. "Anyway, we're holed up here for the night. That storm's getting worse by the second." The gunner nodded yet remained silent. "Since we ain't goin' no where, you wanna come with me into town? I'm starvin'. I know this little place that makes some damn good chowder."

Cid was already walking off before Vincent could agree, but he quickly caught up with the blond and followed behind him.

* * *

The restaurant literally sat on the beach. Even the floors were dusted with a light coating of sand, but it seemed to fit the quaint and quiet atmosphere well enough. They ordered their food and ate it outside on the patio just in time to watch the sun begin to set behind the vast horizon of the sea. This time, Cid got the check as Vincent had paid for their last meal and they were off again.

A paved walkway followed the sand line which Cid and Vincent walked on from the restaurant. For the most part, Cid was doing much of the talking, about random things and about the mission they were facing. All too quickly, the feel of the conversation had taken a dismal turn; about the incident, amongst other things. He wasn't going to let past occurrences bring down what should have been a night of relaxation, so Cid randomly decided he was going to rush out onto the beach into the water.

Reluctantly, the gunner followed and watched with a slight amusement behind his high collar. Every now and then, he would crack a smile, thankful for the shield he had to hide that rare moment of enjoyment. With his boots off, socks shoved inside and his pant legs rolled up, Cid crept towards the water, nearly letting out a yelp when it touched his feet.

"Fuck!" the pilot hissed, "it's _freezin'!_" Daylight was burning out faster and faster and the high tide was coming in. "Sure you don't wanna come in?" Cid asked, laughing as he waved Vincent over, but the gunman refused and stood in the sand simply watching.

Cid kicked about for a while, looking almost like a child at times. Watching him cavort through the water was almost relaxing in a way; a much needed moment of genuine tranquility in the otherwise traumatic last week.

Somehow, Vincent had zoned out and barely noticed when a wave washed onto the shore, bringing some debris with it. His glance shot to the pilot when Cid shouted just before toppling over into the water and then the wave receded back into the ocean, revealing what had happened. A chunk of log settled just in Cid's path, but it was too dark to see anything.

Almost immediately, Vincent ran to the pilot's aid, helping him up even as the water returned. The bottom of his cloak and boots were thoroughly soaked, but Cid had been completely immersed and was dripping from head to toe. Upon closer inspection, his foot was bleeding rather profusely as well.

A stream of swears spilled out of Cid's mouth, much more than usual, though perfectly understandable. The wound had to hurt, especially considering the salty seawater that mixed in with the blood.

"I can't walk back like this," Cid griped and hobbled onto the sad on one foot. Vincent was quick to act as a crutch, guiding Cid's arm over his shoulder and wrapping a hand around Cid's waist. It would have to do for the time being. That or he could give the man a piggyback ride, though Vincent assumed Cid would have rather walked back on his own instead.

With Cid in one hand and his boots in the other, they started on the journey back to the ship. It would take twice as long to get there as it did when they came, but they had no other choice but to take it easy.


	5. Chapter 5

They stumbled into the ship a half hour later just before a light drizzle of rain began to fall. Luckily, none of the crewmen had been up walking about at the time. Cid didn't want to have any extra concern, especially considering how bloody his foot was; what a sight that would be. Ever so gingerly, Vincent guided Cid to his quarters and set the man down on his bed before moving into the bathroom to rummage through the cupboard in search of a first aid kit. It was stashed behind a few extra rolls of toilet paper, which he snatched out and brought with him back to where Cid was examining the mess.

Much to their relief, the injury wasn't as bad as it looked; the blood having made everything seem worse than it really was. Although the scratch was nasty, it would heal soon enough with the proper treatment.

"Guess goin' in the water was a bad idea after all," Cid chuckled as he stood from the edge of the mattress and moved across the room to his closet. He began to pull his shirt off, still sopping with seawater and idly tossed it onto the floor. Behind him, Vincent, having been arranging the first aid kit with his back to the man, came to his feet to find Cid on the verge of tugging his pants down.

He could see the slight curve of Cid's hips under the wet fabric and immediately cleared his throat.

"I uh—" Vincent pointed to the door over his shoulder as the words spluttered from his mouth and said no more; the pilot barely had a chance to stop him from rushing out with his pants halfway down his thighs. As odd as the sudden awkward declaration had been, the more Cid thought about it, the less confusing seemed.

In that very instance, he'd come to a decision; one he'd been pining over for the last few days in particular. The question had always been present in his mind, but never a feasible matter to dwell on in the past. With a pair of clean, dry clothes, Cid made his way to the hall intent on finding where the gunman had run off to. Much to his dismay, a crewman appeared out of nowhere; bombarding him with something he knew he couldn't just dismiss for the time being.

It took twenty minutes out of his time, but when Cid finally address the situation, he went straight back to his search. There were a few places Cid could think of where Vincent might've been hiding, but none of them proved to be fruitful. Nearly another twenty minutes had gone by before he found the gunner leaning against the railing of one of the entry paddocks. It was too dark to see very much outside other than the stars in the night sky and most of the lights had been turned off in the ship as well.

Vincent seemed to have calmed himself from the random outburst, only shifting his weight from one foot to the other when Cid joined his side.

"Been lookin' all over for ya," the pilot said, reaching into a pocket for his cigarettes and lighter. He placed one white stick between his lips, letting it hang while he lit a flame. Cid sucked in one deep breath and, for a moment, held it while the nicotine filled him. He blew it out as he continued to speak. "Didn't get a chance to thank you for helpin' me."

The mumble that escaped from Vincent's mouth was incomprehensible; something about being sorry if Cid were to take a guess, but the pilot merely smiled to himself and gazed off into the distance.

"Looks like the rain stopped."

Still, no answer.

They shared a long, relaxed pause; neither spoke a word. Vincent usually favored the silence in lieu of talking anyway and could feel completely at ease with just the natural sounds around him. Cid might've felt uncomfortable had it not been anyone else, but with the gunner it was the complete opposite.

His cigarette had already burned halfway when he decided to speak up again. Vincent listened, as usual.

"Hey Vince, uh…you know when I told ya 'bout Shera 'n me? There was somethin' I left out."

Vincent remained silent, interested in this new piece of information, and stared at the pilot with a curious gaze.

"…One of the reasons why I told Shera I couldn't love her was because there was someone else."

Cid fingered the end of his cigarette, twirling it and then giving it a flick to loosen the ashes. It was already at the filter and there wasn't much more he could get out of it, so Cid snuffed the white stick against the metal railing and tossed it somewhere into the darkness. He turned to face Vincent, leaning on one shoulder, always holding a firm gaze.

Normally, Vincent considered himself an extremely keen individual. And Cid had always been a very blunt person; the kind of guy to wear his emotions on his sleeve, but he'd not been able to predict what the pilot was planning. He barely had much time to react when Cid closed the distance between them, kissing him.

He stood stiffly, unmoving and staring wide-eyed at the man pressed so closely against him. So many thoughts ran through his head at once, but Vincent couldn't make any sense of them. When he managed to regain some of his senses, he pushed Cid away from him, panting as he tried to catch his breath from the shock.

"Wh-what…what're you—?" All of the words he wanted to say spilled out his mouth at once.

"You don't know how long I been wantin' to do that…"

A frown pulled at Vincent's brow and he shook his head. "I don't…"

"Well?"

"…What do you mean 'well'? What do you want me to say?"

"You don't hafta say anything, Vince." He knew what he was doing and he knew the consequences of boldly kissing someone like the former Turk, but Cid took his chances anyway. At a much slower, cautious pace, Cid stepped forward into another kiss. Vincent responded the same way he had the first time, but he didn't pull back right away. This time, his reaction was less hesitant and coiled tightly with fear until he pulled away again, still shaking his head.

"No…"

"Hey," Cid said, cupping both sides of Vincent's face, "Look at me," though his effort to hold the gunner's attention was fruitless. Vincent pulled away and headed for the bowels of the ship. He didn't get very far when Cid grabbed his arm to physically stop him from running away.

"Don't," Vincent snapped, yanking his arm away, "Don't do this."

"What am I doing?" When the gunner didn't give him an answer, Cid let out a sigh and shook his head. "Let's take this somewhere else, okay?" Finally, a suggestion Vincent could warm to. Cid was relieved to hear Vincent oblige his request having been anticipating a completely different reaction. Whatever it meant required a certain amount of trust. In any case, it only indicated his solid relationship with the pilot; to follow him into his room after such an honest confession.

Cid locked the door, not necessarily worried that anyone would just barge right into the room, but taking the precaution anyway. From behind him, Vincent was the first one to speak.

"…How could you say that?"

"Say what?"

"That you love me…"

When the lock engaged, Cid turned to face the gunner who sat on the bed, staring off somewhere beyond the walls of his quarters. It was a fair question, but one that baffled him.

"I dunno," Cid shrugged and took a seat next to the ex-Turk yet leaving a respectable distance between them. "I don't think its one'ah those things you can explain so easily." He was being honest, but Vincent didn't seem to be too impressed with the answer. "Look, I'm really sorry for doin' that to ya, but—"

"How did you expect me to react?" Vincent asked. He wasn't sure if he'd meant it as a rhetorical question for Cid to chew on, but the gunner shot up and began to pace the room to gather his jumbled thoughts.

"Like this, to be honest." Cid stood as well, still maintaining his distance. "I know what I said was outta the blue, but I ain't jokin' around. I just…needed t'get it off my chest." Of course, he got no reply; as expected. "You can shoot me now if you want."

Vincent eventually stopped pacing the room and stopped at the desk sitting just below the small window. He brushed his fingers over the edge before opening his mouth. He wanted to be sure what he was saying and that it really was what he intended.

"…I am not going to shoot you." Even so, Cid had taken the response with a heavy heart.

"You know I ain't askin ya t'feel the same way 'er anything. This was just somethin' I needed to do for myself. I can understand if you don't wanna be friends anymore."

A frown pulled at Vincent's brow, "Who said I wanted that?"

Cid shrugged in response. "After what I did, I guess I thought…"

"You have no right to go deciding things like that on your own," Vincent hissed.

"Then what does this mean?" the blond wondered. "Any normal guy woulda socked me in the gut, but you, Vince…" Pausing for a moment, Cid thought through what he wanted to say. He wanted to be certain he wasn't going to beat around the bush. "Do you…maybe like me, too?"

There was no answer that Vincent could give as he didn't know what to say in the first place. Yes, it had been a shock when Cid outright kissed him, and even though he'd pushed the man away, the question he faced now left him confused about his own feelings. Was the fact that he hadn't taken off to the hills an indication of his affection for the other man?

"I don't know," he said, and that was the truth. "I don't know what it means."

Vincent tensed when Cid approached him but he didn't pull back when the pilot touched his arm. Cid tried to look him in the eyes. It was difficult at first, but Vincent finally met that blue gaze. He held it for a moment and felt his heart begin to race when Cid slowly, cautiously began to close the distance between them. Vincent was rigid and unmoving when their lips touched; the feel of Cid's hot breath against his mouth sent a shiver down his spine and not in a bad way.

Quite surprisingly, Cid was being gentle with him. The pilot knew how apprehensive he was about this whole thing and he wasn't going to push Vincent any further than he already had. He would let Vincent warm up to the idea on his own. Or, if it truly was not the case, express his feelings and figure out what to do from there. But it wasn't disgusting and the weird feeling he felt the first time was beginning to fade as he got used to Cid kissing him. Much to his surprise, he allowed it to continue and things quickly escalated between them.

Instead of standing there, stiff as a board, Vincent let out a heavy sigh of relief through his nose and allowed Cid to show him where to put his hands; the rest he kind of figured out on his own.

From the middle of the room, they shifted back to the bed as suggested by the gunner. There were times when he was kissing Cid, thrusting his tongue into the other man's mouth and making noises he'd never heard himself make before. He just couldn't believe what was happening and at the same time, everything felt so real and vivid. The sensation he felt just from having someone snake one hand around the back of his neck and the other combing through his hair was unbelievable; his shock stemming from the fact that Cid, his best friend, was the one doing it.

A bold move, but not without reward, Cid dropped one hand down to Vincent's thigh and gave it a bit of a squeeze as it continued up its path. The hand paused, cupping the curve of Vincent's backside, but he could tell it wanted to move to the next level. This time it was Cid who stopped them, pushing away as he tried to catch his breath.

"Damnit," he spat and combed a shaky hand through his hair.

"What is it?"

"…It's just," a nervous chuckle "I want you so bad, Vince…"

He would've walked away if he knew the gunner wasn't comfortable going any further than the kissing and caressing they'd already done. To be perfectly honest, Cid was still in shock knowing that Vincent hadn't put up much of a fight. He wasn't, however, expecting the man to initiate things this time.

Cid deepened the kiss and nearly gasped into Vincent's mouth when he guided one hand to his thigh. Vincent _wanted_ Cid to touch him and that was all the encouragement he needed. The situation escalated quickly; Cid ended up on top of the gunner. He ground his hips against Vincent's obvious erection, eliciting a deep groan from the throat he was kissing. He could feel it reverberate against his lips, tickling them ever so slightly. The hand that had been on Vincent's thigh quickly found its way in between those legs, cupping and massaging the swelling underneath the leather.

Vincent bit his lip and lifted his head to watch as Cid teased him. Every now and then he would raise his hips and let his head loll back into the pillows, but soon it became too much. He was quick to unbuckle his belts. Cid watched in amazement, excited by how deft the gunner was working them open with one hand. He wasted no time helping Vincent wiggle his pants a bit lower and resumed kissing the gunner now with his cock in hand.

His strokes were lazy yet tactful, still teasing those sensitive areas but with no barrier between them. That lean, lanky body writhed under him even more; his expressions tantalizing the pilot beyond control. Cid couldn't take it anymore and guided the gunner's free hand to his own erection.

Cid let out a loud cry when he felt Vincent wrap his hand around his cock. Kneeling over him wasn't exactly the greatest position to be in knowing it would start to hurt eventually, but he could hardly focus on the fact when his mind was clouded with lust. He'd come so close to his climax that it was difficult to fight off. Even doing something like this, Vincent still seemed to maintain a bit of composure and it amazed Cid at just how in control the gunner was of himself.

That quickly changed as Cid pulled away and took to finishing with his mouth. Vincent protested at first only to give in at the hot, wet feel of Cid's mouth around his cock. He had to hold the gunner's waist down to keep him from bucking up too much. It didn't take much longer for Vincent to lose himself completely. The sight, the feel, everything combined was enough to drive him over the edge. Cid had pulled away just before and the milky white release shot across his shirt.

He'd been touching himself as well, releasing just moments before, but Cid was still somewhat hard. Had things panned out a little differently, he might've come inside the gunner instead, but he was being truthful when he said he didn't want to rush things. The blond, careful to avoid the mess he'd made, crawled up next to Vincent, chest still heaving as he tried to find a steady breath.

Just as Cid went to lie down, he noticed the spots on Vincent's shirt and pulled at the fabric.

"Ah…we'll hafta get these washed," he said; a smile crept across his face. Vincent couldn't help but smile back and chuckle softly. There was no need to worry about it now when they had the rest of the night to themselves.


	6. Chapter 6

Vincent woke in the same room he'd fallen asleep in – the captain's quarters – but the captain was nowhere in sight. Beside him, the covers laid messily in place, cold from the lack of body heat to warm them. He figured Cid must have been gone for some time and sat upright. The gunner glanced around the room through bleary eyes, rubbing them with a thumb and index finger. Slowly, as his wits came about him, he shot up from the mattress to grab his cloak which had been strung over the back of a chair in the corner of the room. Cid must've put it there because he couldn't remember having done anything with it. In fact, the pilot must've even helped him take it off sometime during the night as well. They'd been fully clothed when…that happened, and it was still a shock now that he thought about it.

He couldn't focus on the fact too much and tidied his appearance in the small bathroom before stepping into the main corridor. A shower sounded nice, but it would have to wait until later. For now, Vincent needed to find Cid.

He made it to the bridge and realized that they were still grounded in Costa. If the weather reports had been accurate, the store that rolled over the Nibelheim area had been a nasty one. Through the open doorway, the sound of Cid's voice carried through the bridge and Vincent immediately spotted him up at the wheel with one of the crewmen. They were conferring over the weather report and – from what Vincent could hear – they planned on leaving very soon. He hadn't noticed those blue eyes glancing at him, but Cid took notice of his presence. The pilot couldn't just dip out of his duties, however. He waited until the crewman nodded and excused himself to come join Vincent.

"Mornin'," he said, not trying very hard to contain his smile. He lingered closely, but not close enough that it would strike up any assumptions. There was an easy remedy for this. Cid led them back into the corridor where Vincent had emerged from and slipped into the nearest empty room with a door and a lock. Once they were behind the privacy of the door, he slipped his hands around Vincent's waist to pull the gunner against his body. "Guess I didn't wake ya."

Even now, to his surprise, Vincent allowed the gesture and even returned it to some extent. He ground their bodies together, leaning his weight against the blond's and nearly drove Cid out of his mind. Apparently, not a lot had changed since what took place just a few hours ago. Much to Cid's relief, the gunner was still resolute in his decision to open up.

Vincent initiated things this time as Cid seemed a little hesitant to for fear that the other had changed his mind. He'd been forceful about it in the beginning, so it was only natural that Cid assumed he might be having second thoughts. That didn't seem to be the case, however; not when Vincent was deliberately grinding his hips forward.

The kiss broke as Cid surfaced for air. He'd pulled away with what sense he had left, knowing his duties had not yet been fulfilled. They were scheduled to depart in mere minutes, but he had to break away from that to attend to something else, something more important than getting them airborne on time; a few minutes wouldn't make all that much of a difference.

Cid groaned softly and dropped his head against Vincent's chest, clearly distraught by the rush of desire from a mere kiss. But it wasn't just a kiss; it was Vincent kissing him. "You're killin' me," he muttered.

Vincent couldn't help but smile. He was thankful for their difference in height; his chin rested atop that soft blond hair. "I believe you're wanted on the bridge, chief."

Cid opened his mouth to speak, but snapped it shut when he was interrupted by the sound of one of the crewmen calling out for him. The man was close by, somewhere in the corridor having seen the captain come this way and he knew he couldn't hide forever. "Yeah," Cid answered. "I'll be right there."

When the crewman said nothing more, Cid turned to face Vincent and leaned in for one last kiss. It was passionate, hungry and would have escalated if the gunner hadn't pulled away when he did. As much as he was outright teasing the pilot, Vincent knew he needed to keep a clear and focused mind for the both of them.

Rather reluctantly, Cid slipped out of the room and headed back to the wheel while Vincent stayed put. He didn't want to sneak out behind the pilot right away, mainly because of how dangerous it was to be walking around during take off. The sound of the rockets roared loudly and the propeller blades sliced through the crisp, still air. Within a few minutes, they were ascending into the sky as Cid got them on the right course. The moment the rocking became less violent is when Vincent decided it was safe enough to move about.

* * *

"Yes, chief," the young crewman said with a nod. He rushed off to fulfill his duties, finally leaving Cid with some time to breathe but the person he was looking for was nowhere in sight.

The first place Cid checked – his quarters – turned him up empty handed. It didn't surprise him, so he moved onto his next hunch; Vincent's room. There, he found the gunner who answered when he knocked and slipped in, shutting the door behind him. Just then, a light drizzle of rain lightly showered down from the sky and hummed softly against the frame of the ship.

"Looks like we made it just in time," Cid said and watched as Vincent returned to his bag. He'd been packing what little personal belongings he'd brought along, knowing that they had been set up at the Inn in Nibelheim. It was only a 15-minute drive to their location which couldn't be reached by air; the terrain was too unsound to be landing a ship on.

"Have you heard from Reeve?" the gunner asked.

"I spoke to him this morning before we took off. 'Said he wanted to come here after all, so he's gonna take off as soon as he can get out of the office."

Vincent nodded and stood in front of Cid who restrained himself from those wicked thoughts. He could tell the blond wanted nothing more than to pick up where they left off before their departure, but their mission had only just begun.

"Anyway, they're unloadin' the truck right now," Cid continued and started to make his way out. "Reeve said he'd feel better if you let us escort ya there. I mean, to a point, that is. Don't want a repeat of what happened last time…"

No, they most certainly did not. Vincent thought back to the moment the mine went off directly under their truck. It wasn't as surprising to know that he survived, but the two men escorting him hadn't been so lucky.

"We'll get checked in first, get settled an' then go over everything before we head out."

He had no objection to the plan and followed the pilot to the Inn. Reeve had booked two rooms for the both of them, but they would first convene in just one. Joining them was a trusted crew member and the ships resident medic. He was to accompany Cid and Vincent in the truck and wait along his captain for the gunner's return, but – if needed – treat any injuries. God forbid Vincent get hurt again. He insisted, however, venturing into the abandoned hideout alone and most everyone agreed.

* * *

By the time they brought the truck to a stop, the rain was showering heavily over them. Thick droplets, carried by the howling wind pelted the frame of the vehicle, making it nearly impossible to carry on a conversation at a normal tone. Cid killed the engine and set the emergency brake, turning in his seat to face Vincent who sat behind him. "You ready?" he asked. Vincent was unbuckling himself when he nodded. They exchanged a brief glance and the crack of thunder blasted straight over their heads; the bolt of lightning not far away.

It nearly killed Cid to know that Vincent was heading out there alone. He was practically a lightning rod on legs with all that crap he was wearing, but Vincent insisted he would be fine; that is, in the privacy of the hallway back at the Inn. The pilot held back his protests knowing how important it was that they get inside that base. Someone had to do it and there was not one person he could think of who could do the job better than Vincent. Of course, it had to be Vincent.

In the truck, Cid turned back to face the front and spotted a dark figure rushing forward, disappearing a second later into the downpour. Cid heaved a heavy sigh and slumped into his seat, knees hitting the dashboard in front of him. They had no means of contact, no way to reassure him that Vincent would be okay. If he could only hear his voice, he wouldn't be so concerned, but to have to wait until the gunner returned would be difficult.

Next to him in the front passenger seat, the crewman, Jo was his name, glanced at the pilot. He could tell just how agitated Cid was by simply looking at him. There was something different about the normally composed and fearless airship captain, something of a rarity. Jo turned his gaze back out the windshield and thought to himself. He wanted to speak up, but he also knew that Cid wasn't the type of guy to wear his heart on his sleeve.

"You think he'll be okay?" Jo wondered. If he could make it more of his concern, perhaps the pilot would be more responsive.

Cid met Jo's worried gaze and studied it. He knew he wasn't being very careful, caught red-handed silently fretting over the gunner. When he could no longer look the man in the eye, Cid glanced back out the window and said something he wasn't sure he believed, "He'll be fine."

He could only hope.

* * *

There were no surprises as the gunner anticipated there might be; the cave-like base had been abandoned for some time, perhaps even before Deepground had been dealt with. Much of what was stored there; furniture, machines, anything that couldn't be carried out by hand or box had been left behind.

His senses were first invaded by the musky smell of dust and decay. It was accompanied by a dampness that hung in the air from the heavy rains. The air was freezing; a brisk wind blew at his face when he made it out of the torrential downpour. But as he journeyed in further, the air was still and silent. He could barely even hear the rain and assumed he was far down; located deep enough that only the crash of thunder sounded muffled and echoed.

He bypassed most everything as it was of absolutely no use to him. Even as big as the base had once been, the layout was easily navigable. When there was a room next to him, a door was there to allow entrance. There were few corridors; the place was mainly open, that is, until he unknowingly reached the back end. He had two choices; one door about 50 ft. ahead and another that sat off to the corner. The choice was easy, however.

When he went for the door to his right, it simply would not budge – no matter how hard he pushed. He would have to ignore that door and go for the other one, which opened with a bit of coercion. Vincent slammed his shoulder against the thick metal and it popped open, sending him staggering to catch his balance.

What he saw didn't shock him; a row of counters lined against the back of the room sat in the dark depths of the room. There were computer monitors, 5 of them, sitting next to one another and keyboards as well, but the other components weren't as visible. Everything else had been cleared out; only a few scattered papers lay randomly, strewn about the ground. The pages were blank and or faded, too difficult to read in the lack of light and so the gunner ignored them.

He went to the back of the room instead where the monitors were. They, too, were covered in dust, along with the keyboards. He noticed that the technology was rather old and outdated, but he was no expert. He did notice that the towers were missing; the body of the computers hidden away, under the counters.

Vincent grabbed a handle and tried to pull it open, but that would budge either; at least not without some force. In one swift move, he ripped the cabinet door open to find exactly what he was looking for: wires hanging and tangled, but no tower.

_They must have taken them_, he thought, moving onto the next one. It was the same result for the next four spots and as he came upon the fifth, Vincent expected to find the same. There was a tower left behind at the end of the row, but it was in bad shape. Upon closer inspection, someone or something had taken a blunt object to it and nearly crushed the thing into pieces. Quite obviously, their intentions were to leave it unsalvageable. He reached in anyway to take his chances, pulling open the dented frame. Much of what was left was completely ruined. He still had some hope that what he was looking for might not have been a casualty as well.

The hard drive sat crushed in between what looked to be some sort of drive and where the cover of the tower should have been intact. Carefully, Vincent pulled it out, noticing a few scrapes and a generous coating of dust, but it looked nothing like the rest of the components. He wasn't as computer savvy as he could've been; not knowing whether he was bringing back something that was just a piece of scrap, but it was worth the try. If there was any data on there, information left behind by carelessness, then he had done his job well.

Vincent rose from his knees, storing the small drive in his pocket. He did not intend to check the base thoroughly on his way out. From what he could see, little had been left behind in any case; there would be no need to waste time doddling around.

* * *

"He's been in there for over two hours," Cid spat. "What th'hell is takin' so long?!"

Patience worn thin, Cid kicked the door open and jumped outside into the pouring rain. He rounded the front of the truck, moving in the line of the headlights and peered into the hazy distance, unable to see anything. Jo joined the captain as he zipped up his rain jacket. The thing was hardly doing any good now that the rain had picked up. What bothered him so much was knowing how close to the base they were; not even half a mile.

"We should get back in the truck," Jo suggested, but he knew Cid wouldn't listen. Not even the loud crack of thunder could convince the man to return to the shelter of their vehicle. Jo ducked instinctively at the vociferous display of nature and approached the pilot from behind. He, too, stood in the way of the headlights, but they disappeared only a few feet in front of them as the nasty weather made any means of visibility practically zero.

For a brief moment, the only sound was the spattering of rain. About an hour after the gunner left, the wind had died down significantly, yet there were no signs that the other elements would settle.

Jo waited nervously next to the pilot, watching him as he struggled with his consciousness. Cid could walk out into the field, into what he knew was dangerous territory. He knew that all too well, thinking of Vincent's injuries that time back at the mansion. How any man could have survived that was beyond him, even for the gunner. And yet he was torn over how long things were taking. For all he knew, another hour could trudge by without any word. But he didn't want that. He didn't want to have to sit there while his mind assumed the worst.

He was on the verge of taking that step down the steep hill, Jo reaching out behind him when a dark figure flashed out of the corner of his eyes. Cid's head snapped up and he was desperately searching for what he thought he saw; the figure leaped up on the ledge where they stood and he knew exactly who it was.

"Took you long enough," the pilot snarled as Vincent approached him. He said nothing, giving Cid a look before getting into the back seat of the truck. He was just thankful to be out of the rain; the engine roared to life again as Cid joined the two men. The tires spun in the mud but caught the traction they needed to wheel them out of that mess and back to Nibelheim.


	7. Chapter 7

It was shortly after 6 P.M. when the truck pulled up to the Inn. Vincent and Cid went their respective ways. They were both completely soaked from head to toe and in desperate need of a fresh, dry, clean pair of clothes. Vincent didn't bother to dry his hair other than to run a towel through it and slipped into a black shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows along with another pair of dark slacks. He tied his hair back into a loose ponytail, headed out of his room and straight next door to Cid's.

It took a moment for him to answer, but when he did, the pilot was surprised to see Vincent so soon. He graciously stepped back to let the other man inside and closed the door behind them.

"Reeve just called," Cid said, running the towel that was hanging over his shoulder through his hair. "He figures they're about an hour out, but their radar is down. The weather's let up a bit and they've a tail wind."

Vincent nodded and made himself comfortable on the foot of the bed while Cid disappeared into the bathroom only to return shortly without the towel. He sat next to the gunner in silence, but the expression on his face was almost painfully obvious. He'd been holding it in since the gunner finally returned from his mission. Had Jo not been there, Cid would have reacted differently, hugging the gunner or something more. But their relationship was a novel idea still even to them.

When Cid finally found the courage to meet Vincent's gaze, the gunner spoke up.

"You were worried," he stated.

Cid looked a bit offended and frowned, but he would graciously admit the truth. "Of course I was." He looked away again, feeling sheepish for saying it.

"Why?"

"...Why?" It seemed like an odd question, but he would try to answer it anyway. "I guess I was figurin' I'd hafta go in and get yer ass like I did when you showed up at the mansion. Couldn't see a damn thing in that rain either and you insisted on goin' in there alone." Cid shrugged. "Not that I blame ya…it makes sense. I just wish y'weren't so damn stubborn sometimes."

Vincent looked away as well, letting the words sink in. He'd not seen Cid so worried about him before. He hardly even remembered seeing that worried face back at the mansion, but he had been practically unconscious or in a pain-filled daze for the most part. It was somewhat endearing to know how the pilot truly felt. Cid certainly did not appreciate the snicker coming from the dark-haired man. He already felt like enough of an idiot.

"What?" Cid asked and turned to face Vincent. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," the gunner replied, trying not to sound too amused. He was good at that and it worked. He also knew what would take Cid's mind off of the matter and leaned forward, closing the short distance between them. The kiss was soft and innocent. When Vincent finally pulled away, he heard a low disapproving groan sound from deep within Cid's throat. The blond had slipped a hand up his thigh and was pulling at the fabric of his pants.

"If I'da known you were such a tease…" Cid said, trailing off.

"Yes?" He was teasing him; the way Vincent opened his legs a bit wider nearly drove Cid out of his mind, but he was struggling not to lose complete control as Vincent slowly guided his hand upward. "You would have what?"

Cid was reduced to a pure, raw, animalistic nature, shoving the gunner onto his back. He crushed their lips together in a bruising kiss all while his hands roamed wherever they could reach; the fact that Reeve was expected had totally slipped his mind.

Some time had slipped away as did Cid's shirt. He almost couldn't believe his ears when a set of knocks sounded at the door. He was going to ignore them, to continue where they left off after being interrupted when Cid suddenly remembered who it was.

"Shit," the pilot spat, scrambling up off of the bed. Frantically, he searched for his shirt, slipping it back on while Vincent calmly but quickly tended to his disheveled appearance. He didn't want to let off that they had been in the middle of something, so he didn't shout out a reply. He only opened the door when they looked presentable enough and surely, there stood Reeve.

"You look surprised to see me," the director said, stepping in when Cid moved aside. He was almost jealous of the way Vincent seemed so composed.

"We weren't expectin' ya so soon."

"Ah, yes. Well, the radar was fixed and we were closer than anticipated. It seems the weather has really cleared up. There was hardly a cloud in the sky."

He hadn't noticed that the rain no longer pounded against the roof of the Inn. They were too busy to pay much attention to the conditions outside, but it was the truth.

"I've not been able to get settled just yet," Reeve continued. "I want to hear more about what you found, Vincent."

He'd brought it over with him, having placed it on the nightstand when things began to escalate. "There was not much," the gunner said. "Much of the compound had been cleaned out. Except for some furniture and scattered papers, there really wasn't anything left but this." Vincent handed over the hard drive.

"I'm surprised," admitted Reeve. "If they had enough time to take everything with them, you'd think they would be careful enough to remember to take something like this too."

"It seemed as though they were rushed. The other computers had been physically smashed to pieces. Most of them were obliterated beyond recognition, but the one I extracted this from only had minor internal damage."

He took a seat at the table near the window, slipping out a pair of reading glasses in order to get a better look. "It seems as though there is a bit of damage, but to be perfectly honest, it's not so bad that I would say it's a lost cause."

"So you can see if there really is anything worth readin' on that thing?" the pilot asked.

"Yes, but it might take me a while." He had the necessary tools in his bags. Reeve stood from the table to head for the door. "It's in my room. If you'll excuse me; I'll be back in a minute."

The director disappeared for a moment, only to return with what he needed. He set up his laptop at the table and Vincent and Cid gathered around him, watching intently. Within a few moments, they were booted up and Reeve connected the drive to his laptop.

"Well, I'm certainly not surprised," he said, finally speaking up after a few minutes of opening folders and searching for documents.

"What?" Cid wondered. He wasn't as literate about computers as Reeve was, but he knew how to use them.

"It seems they didn't take their chances. The drive has been formatted. I'd expect nothing less, even if it was a shoddy attempt at erasing their foot prints."

"Can you recover what data was stored on there before the format?" Vincent asked.

"Well," Reeve sighed, "I can sure as hell try. We may not be so lucky, though."

"Jus' do what you can," Cid told him as he stood up from the foot of the bed. He was staring at his PHS, apparently getting a text message. "I gotta check something on the ship, but I'll be back in a bit." He met Vincent's gaze briefly before tearing it away. Vincent fully intended on staying in the room. For all he knew, there could have been information they were not aware of beforehand. He wanted to be around if Reeve successfully retrieved anything.

* * *

"We spotted it just after inspection," one of the crewmembers explained. "It's pretty big. You can see straight into the fuselage and the burn marks make it obvious; except that there was no indication that the hull had been penetrated during the flight."

"No," Cid muttered softly in agreement. "There's no way."

"The weather reports did indicate a series of lightning strikes around Nibelheim after the ship was grounded."

He pursed his lips, still frowning at the sight. "How long do you think it'll take to get it patched up at least?"

"We're working on getting the supplies we need, but we won't be able to make the trip back to Edge. It's impossible. We're lucky enough that Rocket Town is close. I can't say the patch work will hold up for that long even…"

Cid let out a heavy sigh, accepting the fact that they might not be out of there for another day or two. "Alright, get working on it," he said. "If you don't need me for anythin' else, I'm headin' back to the Inn."

* * *

Vincent sat across the table from Reeve who worked incessantly trying to retrieve what data he could. An hour passed and the director made his third phone call in desperate need of some assistance. Apparently, during his attempt to retrieve some of the data, Reeve had encountered a number of problems he didn't have the knowledge to solve. Once he had made it passed those barriers, Reeve was able to figure out the rest himself and the process went smoothly from there; much smoother than either of them expected.

"You're kidding," he said, startling the gunner with such a statement. Vincent looked up from the files he was reading over and stood from his seat to round the table.

"What is it?"

"I don't know," Reeve answered and picked a random folder to click on. It was corrupted, as were the next dozen. The file labeled '1' caught his attention and he opened that one expecting to come across the same error as the rest had given him. Much to his surprise, that was not the case. The file opened in a reader program a few seconds later. "Looks like we've got one that works."

Data spilled over the page in bits and pieces, but it did not make sense at first glance. Reeve leaned forward, squinting as he read and Vincent peered over his shoulder as well.

"Sequence identifier has begun transmutation with foreign DNA…genomic sequence …" Reeve scrolled down a bit, hoping to get passed some of the language he was not familiar with and found something that caught his attention. "Subject has successfully achieved metamorphosis and remains highly unstable..."

"I know this," the gunner spoke up, having read further. Reeve met Vincent's gaze, but he didn't have to say much more as the answer was painfully apparent.

His eyes snapped back to the screen and Reeve read a bit further, though not much that he would reveal anything terribly private. How they'd managed to get their hands on such sensitive information was beyond him. He wasn't sure of how much Vincent knew about the experiments that Hojo conducted; nor did he feel that it was a good time to go browsing through them, but the gunner had already pulled the laptop towards him so that he could better read the words in the document.

"Should you be reading this?" Despite his concern, Reeve knew that it was none of his business. He had no right to tell Vincent what he should or shouldn't do and the gunner expressed that with his lack of a response. Vincent was much too enthralled by the data to have heard the question.

"Vincent…" Reeve said, a bit louder and with a more stern tone. He felt foolish for scolding the man; especially considering Vincent was technically his senior, but the sinking feeling in his gut just wouldn't go away. "Vincent, please…don't—"

"I would like to be alone," the gunner snapped. He shot up from the chair and the legs squealed loudly against the wooden floor having been pushed by the back of his knees. His glare was fierce, bright red and enough to convince the director to back down. Much to his dismay, Reeve reluctantly excused himself, shutting the door quietly as he stepped out.

* * *

Cid smiled at the woman sitting behind the front desk and she returned the gesture, returning to the book she had been reading when he slipped in through the front door. He was anxious to see whether Reeve had made any progress. It was all he could think about. When the pilot finally made it to his room, he expected to find the director and Vincent still in there, but Vincent was nowhere to be found. What scared him the most was the pitiful expression on Reeve's face.

"What is it?" he asked, knowing right away that something was wrong. "Where's Vince?"

"He left," Reeve said with a sigh. The man was completely distraught and obviously fretting over the fact.

"What do you mean he left? Where did he go?"

"I don't know. He just…I managed to retrieve some of the files; he read them and took off."

"Wait, wait," Cid frowned, stopping the man from saying anything more. "Maybe I'm missing something here…"

"…The files they tried rid of were unpublished notes from Hojo's experiments on Vincent. I don't know exactly how Deepground managed to get their hands on information like that, perhaps Hojo left them himself, but it makes sense. They knew about the Protomateria. They were after it. Chances are they needed to know more about it to get it out of him."

"Jesus fuck…" Cid stopped himself and turned to the door, but he wasn't exactly sure where he was headed. Instead, he stopped and turned to face Reeve again. "You didn't try to stop him?!"

"I did. I ran after, but he told me not to follow so I respected his wishes."

Groaning, Cid fixed his jacket now that he knew he had to venture back out into the cold. It was a miracle the rain had stopped, but he'd just come back from the frigid condition. "Which way did he go?"

"Towards the mansion," Reeve said.

Of course he did. Cid should have known. Yanking up the zipper, the blond tugged at the bottom of his jacket and slipped out of the room without another word.

* * *

_'How many times have I been here before? This place still gives me the creeps.'_

Fortunately, the ominous clouds looming overhead had chosen not to expel torrents of rain on the land like they had been earlier. It was a dry yet brisk walk to the mansion. When Cid arrived, he found the door closed but unlocked. He couldn't remember if it had been that way the first time, but it really didn't matter. There were a few places he would look and hopefully find the gunner; though his expectations were kept at the bare minimum.

Cid perused the bottom floor, avoiding the rooms he recalled were infested by things he did not want to deal with; not tonight. When his search was uneventful, Cid moved upstairs and found nothing.

"Great," he said and sighed as he shut the door of the last room at the end of the hall. There was only one place for him to check.

What he knew of the basement didn't sit right with him. The entire mansion had a sort of sinister atmosphere and it made his skin crawl just thinking about what went on down there. Quite honestly, Cid assumed that Vincent had put the past behind him; after everything he'd been through, it only seemed reasonable the gunner would finally give himself a break. He would keep his assumptions simply that until he found the man.

At the bottom of the stairs in the hall just outside the door, Cid flinched when he heard the sound of glass smashing. His immediate reaction was to run to the door, but it wouldn't budge an inch as he tried to pull it open.

"Vince?"

_Smash.  
Shatter._

"Vincent! Open the door!" he shouted and banged on the thick wood with his fist; still, no answer – nothing but a frightening commotion. Cid grabbed the door handle, shook, and pulled to no avail. His hand turned a bright red from pounding so hard. He thought he might kill his voice from the volume he was shouting only to be interrupted by the echo of the lock disengaging.

Cid dropped his arms to his side and took a step back. Another lock disengaged and another and soon the door squealed open to reveal the man he'd been looking for.

Cid took a step forward; his curiosity getting the better of him, but when he saw the mess before him, he simply could not believe his eyes. What used to be a lab was now littered with shattered glass, books, and various other things that Cid wasn't sure of. "What the hell is going on—" He stopped dead in his tracks, eyes wide and scanning the destruction.

His heart sunk straight into his stomach. So many questions ran through his mind and yet Cid knew all the answers. He had very little time to stick around to survey the damage when Vincent pushed passed him. Their shoulders brushed as the gunner slipped through the doorway.


	8. Chapter 8

They walked in silence out of the mansion.

In the back of his mind, Cid feared what would happen if he opened his mouth or got too close to the gunner. He was all too familiar with the shell that Vincent tended to retreat into during times like these and assumed that any attempt to coddle the man now would produce bad results.

For safety's sake, Cid kept a respectable distance. Even as they reached the Inn, Cid lingered far enough behind the man that he'd lose sight of him every time they turned a corner. Up the stairs, down the hall, he watched the gunner disappear into his room and bit back the painful ache that panged in his chest. When the door shut silently, with a calmness that had to be feigned, Cid moved back to his own room hoping to find Reeve where he left him.

The dark-haired man stood from his seat as Cid came into view. All this time he had been quite anxiously waiting for some good news. "Well?"

"…He's in his room," Cid answered.

Reeve let the tension in his body relax, "Oh, thank God," and allowed himself to let out the breath he'd been holding in. "How is he?"

_Hell if I know_, the blond thought, but he did not intend to alarm the man. Cid explained, in so many words, that Vincent went to the mansion to let off some steam and he hardly even made it clear what really happened. He never hinted that the man had flipped his lid.

Cid never gave Reeve the chance to question any further, either. He told him he was going to speak to Vincent and then excused himself to slip out into the hall. He needed to catch his breath, slow his racing heart before he faced the gunner again.

_What the hell am I doing?_ he wondered. His destination was only two doors away and yet the few steps it took to get there seemed like an eternity. Each step, although few, brought him to his destination. He paused outside the door labeled 206, wondering if he was doing the right thing or if Vincent would even want any company. Regardless of the fact, he needed to at least try to reason with the man and maybe even console him if he was lucky.

With what courage he could muster, Cid balled his hand into a fist and knocked on the door. It took a moment for Vincent to reply, sluggish upon opening the door but not so much as he made haste back to the table where he was previously sitting. Vincent had been inspecting the mess he'd made of his claw and it gave the man something to distract himself with for the moment.

Cid shut the door quietly behind him, moving through the short entry hall at a cautious pace. He didn't speak at first. Instead, he found himself fascinated by the way that Vincent seemed so calm. He prided himself, however, in knowing the gunner well enough to spot those rare moments when Vincent would let his emotions shine through. It was slight and he hid it easily with his back turned, but a frown tugged at his features.

Cid took those few bold steps forward, stopped at the foot of the bed and opened his mouth to speak. "You wanna tell me what that was back there?"

"Not really," the gunner answered rather brashly.

"Why not?"

Vincent turned in his seat and shot the man a glare. He said nothing, however. His gaze had spoken for him.

Cid shook his head at the wordless response and moved closer to the gunner, still keeping a respectable distance. "Look, I'm sorry…" The frustration in his voice was painfully apparent.

"What do you have to be sorry for?"

"Not being there to stop you." The confession seemed to shock Vincent some, but the suffocation he felt in his position only worsened when the blond finally closed the distance between them and sat in the empty chair on the other side of the table. Cid scooted closely, making it difficult to avoid that piercing blue gaze. "Why do you keep doing this to yourself?"

"…Doing what?"

"Lettin' that son of a bitch ruin your life!" He really did mean to be harsh. It seemed to be the only way that Vincent would listen. "Was it really worth it to read what was in those files? Chaos is gone an' you're still alive… What more do you need t'know?"

Cid's passionate reaction made the gunner cringe.

"You have _got_ to stop torturing yourself."

Such a submission floored him. To hear Cid pleading like he was and to see his concerned expression felt as though a knife had been driven into his chest, twisting and turning the blade as if to drive home the point. He did not show it on his face until Cid took his hand.

The only other thing Cid thought to try was to embrace the man. Cid leaned over in his seat and snaked his arms around Vincent's neck. He had to forcefully pull the gunner into a hug, though it was not met with much resistance. Vincent accepted it after a few tense moments, even returning the gesture. They stayed that way for a long while, simply holding each other and Cid could feel the stiffness melting away.

The moment did not very long. Vincent pulled away eventually; his hands slid down the pilot's chest and over his thighs. He was silent, speaking only with his eyes. As their gazes met, Cid found the look that Vincent was giving him to be a curious one, but he didn't back away from it. He welcomed the kiss that captured his lips and the gentle caress at his knee. It sent a fierce shiver throughout his body, one that left him breathless.

When the kiss broke and the blond had a moment to regain some sense, he began to wonder what the sudden show of affection was all about. They hadn't had much time alone together and the fact that their relationship had just recently blossomed made the severity of the situation, his reaction to it, somewhat odd.

The tip of his tongue darted out to lick his lips, savoring the taste of the gunner that lingered with the exchange. In any other circumstance, Cid would have progressed things between them, but his concern only heightened with such a response. Surely, Vincent was not seeking comfort in his right mind. Cid wouldn't allow it. Instead, he grabbed hold of Vincent's wrists to stop the hands that slowly inched their way up his thigh.

"It's been a rough day," the pilot said, biting back a groan. "Should get some rest..."

Vincent regarded the suggestion with a glare at first and said nothing, but his hardened gaze transformed into something less aggressive, less offended. Perhaps Cid had done him a favor stopping his advances, though he wouldn't truly know until some time had come to pass.

The gunner dropped his gaze for the briefest of moments only to look up again before slipping out of Cid's grasp. Silently, he excused himself to the bathroom, much to Cid's relief. For all he knew, the man would run away again, but that was not the case. Vincent did, however, take some time before emerging from the bathroom; his cloak and boots carried in his arms. Vincent set the accessories aside and moved to the bed where he pulled back the covers, slipping under them. Cid took the hint and joined the man, sliding under the covers behind him.

Once the two were settled in between the cold, unused sheets, it seemed that sleep would ensue.

* * *

The last thought he recalled from the night before was wondering when he'd ever fall asleep. Surprisingly enough, Vincent had fallen asleep before him, his breathing became more noticeable and his body went slack as soon as he fell unconscious. Cid was not far behind, allowed a bit of alleviation from his prior concerns and the chance to join the man.

He was awakened by a set of soft knocks on the door. Cid peeled opened his eyes at first and recalled having fallen asleep next to the gunner, but he moved out of bed, mechanical in his motions, to answer the door. Reeve stood in front of him, surprised to see the pilot answering instead of Vincent. He didn't realize it at first, but Cid stepped out into the hallway, shutting the door behind him before saying anything.

"What happened last night?"

"Erm...we talked a lot and I guess I fell asleep," Cid explained, scratching the back of his neck with a nervous manner. Nothing had really happened between them, but he couldn't help feeling as though he had been caught red handed.

"I hope that Vincent is doing okay." When the blond did not reply, Reeve continued. "I just wanted to let you know that I must return to Edge. I'm not able to do much with my knowledge and need to further analyze the data on that drive." It made sense. "The plane should be here within the hour," the man explained; a bit sooner than Cid expected. Reeve continued to explain that he wanted to speak to Vincent before taking off and then excused himself to return to finish packing.

Cid slipped back into the room and stayed near the door to rub his weary eyes. He was still somewhat tired from being awakened so abruptly and remembered that Vincent had only groaned softly, turning somewhat when Reeve knocked on the door. To ease his curiosity, he moved back to the foot of the bed to find the gunner awake and sitting upright.

"I am going with him."

Cid stared, confused at first until he realized what Vincent meant.

"…A-are you sure? I can't go with you. The ship needs repairin' an' I'm not sure how long it'll be before…"

That didn't seem to faze the gunner. Vincent slipped out of bed and moved to his cloak and boots to put them on. "I need to," he replied, sounding somewhat regretful of those words. Vincent was leaving him even after he thought that maybe he had made even the slightest difference. Why, however, was beyond Cid.

The panic that had been building in the pit of his stomach was at its highest point and the only thing that Cid could think to do was not helping in the least. He stood, frozen, unable to formulate a coherent thought with his mind racing as it was. He needed to do something before the gunner could leave. Vincent was already buckling the last few clasps on his boot when he did that something.

Cid came down to his knees in front of the man and took his hand, letting out a shaky breath. "Please," he begged, voice low and gentle, unlike the typically brash young pilot. "Don't go."

He would not beg for anyone else. What mattered to him now was whether Vincent would be accepting of such a pitiful display.

Ever so slightly did the blond squeeze Vincent's hand. There he was, putting his feelings on the light and yet he couldn't even look at the man. Perhaps Cid was afraid of how the gunner would respond, but his concern was not without merit. If only he could just freeze that moment, he might not have to face the possibility of rejection.

Much to his surprise, he felt the pressure being returned. Vincent squeezed his hand and Cid lifted his gaze to meet that those bright red eyes. He could not determine what it is that Vincent was thinking inside that head of his and he hated that.

The gunner slid out of the chair to come to his knees, wrapping his arms around Cid's neck and pulled the man into an embrace.

He was speechless at first, and for good reason. Not one minute earlier had Vincent outright declared he intended to run away and now Cid was not sure if this was a gesture of farewell or something else. The latter, he hoped. _God, let it please be. _ "Does this mean you'll come with me?" A fierce tremble coursed through his body. He thought he might have a panic attack and for the first time in his life.

The answer was simple, "Yes," and exactly what he wanted to hear.

All Cid could do was smile.


	9. Chapter 9

"_That is quite a big hole."_

"_They patched it up last night best they could," Cid explained as he rubbed the back of his neck The damn thing was killing him for some reason; must've slept the wrong way. It didn't matter. He had other things to worry about. "I'm hopin' it'll hold out 'til we get back to Rocket Town."_

_Reeve nodded and put his hands on his hips. In the distance, the sound of chopper blades slicing through the wind could be heard, echoing loudly as the helicopter came closer. "Looks like my ride is here." The director paused, turning to face Cid again. "I will get in touch with you as soon as we find out any more information."_

_Nod._

"_Ah, how is Vincent doing, by the way? I didn't get much of a chance to speak with him after last night."_

_The question was somewhat complicated, gray area that the blond wasn't sure he felt comfortable asking despite Vincent's apparent breakthrough. "Better," he said, venturing a guess. At least he hoped so. He wouldn't go so far as to say the gunner had a complete turn around, but Cid was pleased with the fact that Vincent had agreed to come with him._

_It brought a smile to Reeve's face. He was happy to hear it. "I'm glad." Just then, the helicopter was appeared over their heads and hovered for a moment before setting onto the ground, kicking up the wind and dust as it did. Reeve squinted, lifting one hand to block the debris from getting in his eyes; his hair flew about every which way. The door slid open once it was settled and a young man slipped out to call for him._

"_Guess I'll hear from you soon," Cid said and held out a hand. Reeve accepted it without hesitation and returned the gesture with a brief shake before taking his leave._

_

* * *

_

Finally, the lock gave way. Cid stumbled forward as he pushed the front door open; the lock always jammed every now and then but he just did not have the time to fix it. "Damn thing," he muttered and shoved his keys back into his pants pocket. Behind him followed the gunner. They were greeted by a cool breeze upon entry; the house hadn't been lived in for a few days after all and it was well into autumn – cold temperatures and rainy days expected. The first matter of business was to turn the heater on.

As he stepped through the doorway, the gunner realized that the house was exactly as he remembered it, even though he'd not been around in quite some time. Despite the lack of heat, it was a welcome environment, unlike the mansion or that Inn in Nibelheim. This place felt like a home. He was glad to be there and, for once, not itching to run away.

"Heater's on the frits," Cid told him as he fiddled with the knob on the wall, giving up after there was no response. "M'gonna have to light up the fireplace." Luckily, there was some pre-chopped wood left over from earlier in the year which he brought in, just a couple of pieces to throw on the fire for now and one or two more for later. All the while, the gunner stood around, almost as if he were uncertain of what to do.

"Go ahead 'n make yerself comfortable." Cid waved a hand as he placed the wood on the rack.

"…I'd like to shower, if it's alright…"

When the wood was settled, the blond pushed himself from his knees and nodded, staring at the gunner with an almost amused expression. "Yeah, sure," he nodded, "Towels are in the linen closet and you can use whatever's in the bathroom." Cid moved back to the fireplace to rummage through a small box where he kept some matches. "Hopefully the hot water's workin' or else I'm 'onna pitch a fit." He could handle having to heat the house up the old way, but if he couldn't function if there was no water for a hot shower.

A bit of tinder under the rack where the wood sat helped to spark and fuel the fire. It got going quickly, sparking to lift as the wood caught the flame. Vincent had already found his way to the bathroom when the blond stood up again, but Cid thought it best to wait for the gunner to come to him if there was no hot water. That never happened. He could hear the stream pouring from the pipes; a bath, he determined, from the sound of the tub filling up. A bath sure did sound good. Normally, he took showers and he took them quick; rarely ever had time to just sit and relax.

The moment the water turned off and Cid was in the hallway rapping on the door with the back of his hand. "Everythin' alright in there? You need anything?"

There was nothing at first; no answer until the door opened and Vincent peered from the crack. Those bright red eyes met Cid's curious blue ones and then the door opened to reveal a very naked gunner in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. The sight nearly floored Cid at first. He thought he might've been dreaming, but the fact was made very apparent by the intricate details of his body; skin, not pale but of a porcelain hue. As those eyes traveled down further, Cid noticed the web of scars on Vincent's chest; the place where he'd been shot by Hojo that never quite healed right.

Vincent said nothing and, instead, pulled the blond into the bathroom with him. "Wouldn't want to waste this all to myself," he said, going straight for the bottom of Cid's shirt which was pulled over his head and landed somewhere on the tiled floor. He was at a complete loss for words, unable to form a coherent thought while the gunner undressed him. Vincent even took it upon himself to unbutton and unzip the fly of his pants. They dropped to the floor as well and Cid stepped out of them, kicking out of his boots at a surprising speed.

They hadn't even gotten so far as to make love yet and there the gunner was, undoing that towel from around his waist with absolutely nothing on under. His heart skipped a beat or two and Cid swallowed a thick lump down his throat. He slipped into the bath first, hissing softly at the hot water against his skin and submerged himself. Vincent did the same, but stepped in between his legs.

Another moment or two and the gunner turned the water off. He had tied his hair into a loose bun; dark strands trickled down his back. Cid couldn't take his eyes off of it. It was a struggle enough to keep calm with Vincent pressed so closely against him in the tub. They only had so much room to wiggle about. He hardly minded, though and ran a wayward hand over that skin, feeling a shiver run through that body.

The brunette bit his lip as the sensation shook him, only to lean back against Cid's chest. Surely, he could feel the pounding of Cid's heart. He thought he'd go mad. That is, until he felt the water ripple and a hand placed on his thigh.

"Why do I get the feelin' you're teasin' me," he murmured right next to the gunner's ear. He got a chuckle in response and Vincent cocked his head to give the blond better access. Cid kissed him. Those hands slipped over a taut stomach. It would be damn near impossible and dangerous to do what he wanted to do in that tub; most certainly not how he wanted things to be. So the bath was made a quick one. Cid, after washing himself, insisted on helping Vincent as well – one of the quickest baths he'd had in a very long time, but for a damn good reason.

Both of them slipped out and dried off, moving into the back of the house to Cid's room. It was much too cold to linger – long enough to grab a pair of clothes and bring it back to the bathroom. Before Vincent could even take the towel off, Cid grabbed his wrist, kissing the man hard.

Ever since they left the hotel, a heavy regret weighed in his heart for not pursuing the gunner's advances. He could not have, in good conscience, given in to the gravity of the situation. Vincent hadn't been thinking straight, after all. That restraint, that self-control, the desire he felt to protect the gunner outweighed everything else.

As he pulled away for a breath of air, Cid dragged his lips downward and over the contour of Vincent's jaw, neck, over his throbbing pulse and grazed his teeth over the collarbone.

"I want you," the blond confessed. "I've wanted this fer so long."

"Then have me."

Oh, those words. Those words he'd been longing to hear and now Vincent was in his arms, wanting Cid to take him. He wondered how he could resist.

As he took those lips in an avid kiss, Cid blindly reached for the top drawer and pulled it open, rummaging through its contents until he found what he was looking for; a small bottle of lube he'd had for a while now.

"I'd take you to bed, but it's too damn cold in there," the blond said, snickering. Vincent smiled softly – such a beautiful smile and it was all for Cid and those lips pressed softly against his. It didn't matter where they did this; although the bathroom proved some difficulties for comfort. Vincent took Cid's hand and led them into the living room where the fire had warmed the air.

He pulled the blond down with him onto the couch; the towel still wrapped around his waist had come loose as Cid sank on top of him. He preferred to have it off and raised his hips slightly to pull it completely undone while the blond did the same. Cid kissed him again, but at the crook of his neck this time, gently suckling at the soft skin that sent a shiver coursing through his body. A low moan escaped the gunner. He squirmed under Cid, grinding their cocks against one another, urging the man to move things along. The hint had been effective enough.

Beside them, lying on the coffee table was the small bottle of lube which Cid looked for, smacking around the surface until he found it. With a thumb, he popped the cap off and reluctantly pulled himself away to coat the middle finger on his free hand. He wasn't going to do this without preparing the gunner regardless of how enhanced Vincent was.

When he met those bright red eyes, they were staring at him, watching. The gunner had his bottom lip in between his teeth, anxiously awaiting what was to come next. He'd never been in this situation, this position before and it made his heart race with anticipation. He would not do it for anyone else – only Cid. He had wanted this as well, just like the pilot. Back when they were on the ship, the thought crossed his mind. But even as he tried to convince himself of just how much he craved the blond, it all seemed way too rushed. So he waited. He waited until he knew he would be ready to accept the consequences; good or bad.

A pillow propping his backside up gave Cid the access he needed to insert the digit, doing so as gingerly as possible. Both men held their breath until it had slid in completely.

"You okay?" the blond asked. He wanted to make sure he wasn't hurting Vincent, who responded with a nod even as he bit down on his lip. The intrusion felt strange; he had to admit, but it was hardly as painful as he expected. Then again, it was only _one_ finger.

With the gunner's assurance, Cid pulled back carefully and pushed back in, finding a steady pace at which Vincent could live with. He knew by the way the brunet fluttered his eyelids shut and let his head loll back into the cushion that the awkward feeling was not so much awkward as it was pleasurable. And then he added another finger, keeping the pace steady until he could no longer tolerate watching Vincent pant and writhe underneath him, practically begging to move things along.

The bottle of lube was in his hands again and this time Cid coated his erection; the tip a rosy hue as it ached and twitched. Pacing himself had been the most difficult things or Vincent would be bent over the counter in the bathroom at that moment. He repositioned himself, meeting Vincent's gaze before doing anything else.

He just wanted to make sure. "Ready?"

The question was met with a nod. Vincent braced himself, one hand holding tightly onto his shoulder while the other held onto the couch. He rubbed the tip of his cock around the slick entrance and slowly pushed forward, biting his lip as he did. Vincent, on the other hand, had squeezed his eyes tightly shut. This was different than just the fingers. It stung; a white-hot fire shot through his backside and up his spine, radiating throughout the rest of his body. For a moment, the gunner lost himself, panicking at the intrusion, but he quickly regained his senses and opened those eyes to look down at the sight before him. Cid had pushed in all the way to the hilt.

"Relax, huh?" Easier said than done, Vincent thought. The hand that caressed his face served as a bit of a distraction at first, but to fight against instinct was a difficult task. That touch was quickly replaced with a set of lips crushing his, effectively throwing off his concentration. "_God_, you're so _tight_," hissed the blond as he broke away for a breath of air.

Vincent wriggled under him, encouraging Cid to _move_.

"-_Aauh_…!" As those hips thrust against him, the words blurted out. He threw a hand over his mouth to keep from crying so loudly, but the blond pulled it away, urging him not to hold back. It wasn't as though there were any neighbors nearby to hear them and Cid wasn't expecting any guests. Even if he tried to keep quiet, Vincent knew he wouldn't be able to; not with the way Cid drove into him. Instead, he let his voice out, moaning when that spot was hit over and over again.

And then he began to pick up the pace, thrusting harder and faster. Those bright red eyes, hazy with lust snapped open and Vincent let out a sharp gasp. It took him by surprise, rubbing him in just the right way. Both hands snaked around the back of Cid's neck as the gunner braced his impending release. He was so close but he could hardly speak. He panted heavily, hoping the words would come out right, but they didn't make sense even to him. Vincent arched his back off the couch as he came hard, spurting over his belly and chest – Cid followed closely behind.

The blond tensed upon release, frozen as his muscles strained, but he soon relaxed enough to drop his forehead, covered with a thin film of sweat, against Vincent's shoulder, struggling to catch his breath. A hand stroked his hair sweetly and the gunner pressed a soft kiss to that furrowed brow. The position they were in was a bit awkward as Cid let his weight press down against the gunner. He pulled out carefully before shifting onto his knees, wishing the damned heater would work so they could relax and stretch out on the bed instead of the couch. Fortunately, the towel Vincent was laying on had prevented any messes from being made.

Cid crawled off of the couch and was going to fetch his towel which had been haphazardly thrown to the floor only to be pulled back down into a kiss. The gesture surprised him at first until he melted into those lips, deepening the kiss a bit more. When he pulled away slowly, he thought he would fall over, dazed and weakened; a strange clicking noise echoed in the room, catching his attention. Something rumbled to life within the house – the heater, finally.

"I'll be damned," Cid said as a smile crept over his face. They could sleep in the bedroom comfortably tonight.


End file.
